The Last King
by Greed720
Summary: Reborn as the first born son of Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister, the Crown Prince of Westeros, Percy Jackson must now play the Game of Thrones. As the dangerous game starts will Percy rise or will he fall? Will his be the fury? Or will Westeros hear him roar?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So I noticed on this site that there were barely any Percy Jackson/ Game of Thrones stories, which genuinely surprised me considering how many Naruto and Harry Potter/ Game of Thrones crossovers. As such I decided instead of complaining that I would do one myself.**

 **This chapter is just a prologue, a taster chapter to test the waters so to speak. I will be aiming for chapters to be between 4000 and 6000 words. With Percy being the main character and protagonist.**

 **This story will primarily be following the Game of Thrones series as oppose to the Song of Ice and Fire books. Though there will still be bits and pieces along with a few chapters from the books.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones.**

 **( - )**

 **Prologue**

 **( - )**

 **(With Percy Jackson)**

Percy Jackson let out a ragged sigh. He was tired, no not just tired he was bone weary. His muscles ached, and his head throbbed. His throat was so dry it felt like he had been drinking fire, which was ironic as he had in fact been drinking from the Phlegethon, the River of Fire, one of the only sources of life and sustenance in the hellish realm of Tartarus.

He wasn't sure how long he had been down here now, time seemed to have no meaning in depths of Tartarus. There was no night, nor was there any day, instead the landscape was forever bathed in an ominous red light. He wasn't sure exactly how long he had been trapped in this hell, but he knew it had been years, maybe decades, maybe even centuries, he honestly wasn't sure. What he did know though was that it had been a very, very long time.

Of course his stay down here hadn't been optional, no he had tried everything to get out. He had walked from one side of Tartarus to the other, fighting and killing any monster that got in his way. He had searched far and wide for any sign of a doorway, or of a way out but had come up empty.

Once he had even tried climbing the walls, that hadn't ended well, fifty metres up he had found himself a target for a group of savage harpies. He had ended up having to let go of the ledge he had been clinging onto to stop himself from being torn off the wall and ripped to shreds. This unfortunately had actually led to him falling off the wall. Luckily he had managed to grab one of the harpies and use them to break his fall.

Yes, he had tried everything he could think of to escape this hellish place. He had tracked down different gods and immortals that like him were trapped in the abyss and tried to bargain with them for a way out. More often than not though those confrontations led to a fight, some of which Percy won, others he barely escaped from. Still though at least the experience had allowed him to hone his skills to the point at which he would say he was a master of both the blade and his demigod abilities.

Probably the only reason he had even survived this long was his decision a few months into his stay in Tartarus to once again bath in the River Styx, regaining the invulnerability it gave him in the process. Yeah that had been a good decision, or at least it had at the time.

Now though he had been trapped here so long he was beginning to curse his decision, after all the Curse of the Styx was likely the only reason he was still alive today, which is something he regretted every now and then. Especially when he was having a particularly bad day, or had just had a especially nasty fight.

Not that Percy was suicidal, no not at all. He had too much pride to kill himself, especially in such a dishonourable way. But that didn't mean, that he didn't occasionally on some of the day's he was feeling particularly low, go hunting for powerful enemies in the hopes that they would overpower him and kill him. Not that he had had much luck with that, since he refused to fight with anything less than his absolute best and his time in the pit although draining had allowed him to hone his skills to the point of absolute mastery. This meant that more often than not he came out the victor, with the Titan of Destruction Perses once kicking his arse only to leave him alive so that they could fight again later when Perses was bored.

That's not to say it was all bad, as there was occasionally some release from his misery, he had had a few good years. He had met a few decent-ish monsters and immortals whilst down here. Eris the Goddess of Chaos was always a bit of fun, plus she was amazing in bed. He didn't see her often but when she did pop down to visit her mother, Nyx, she usually me up with him. Which was a welcome change from the daily grind for Percy, it was just a pity that she wasn't able to take him back to the surface with her, well not without him being turned to ash anyway.

Kelly an Empousa he had met in his youth also occasionally met up with him, the two of them had even had a brief relationship for a few years. One that had ended rather awkwardly when he had woken up to find her trying to drink his blood. Suffice to say a sword through the heart certainly put a dampener on things. Though after she had reformed they still had an occasional fling, the monster Lamia also joined the two of them once or twice. Yeah that was a highlight of the year.

So yeah although there were a lot of hard times during his time in Tartarus, he had had a bit of fun here and there. But as time passed, Percy began feeling more and more drained. His hope of escaping from the barren wasteland that was Tartarus slowly getting crushed by the realisation that he was trapped here.

Even if all the Gods of Olympus worked together he doubted they would be able to either find him or get him out, it wasn't like this place was as easy to get to of as the Underworld after all. At least in the Underworld a couple of mortals had managed to escape. This was Tartarus though, a place that even gods and Titans feared to go.

Currently Percy was stood at the edge of the pit, his dull sea green eyes staring out over the ledge and down into the swirling mass of chaos below. His black hair was currently matted with sweat, ichor and blood, as too were his shredded and battered clothing, mismatched articles he had scavenger from slain monsters and the occasional Titan he came across and killed.

Running a scarred and pale hand through his matted black hair, Percy's other hand began to absentmindedly play with the hilt of Anaklumous. The Celestial Bronze blade covered in scratches and scrapes, showing the signs of its heavy usage during Percy's time in Tartarus.

He had been stood here at the very edge of the put for over three hours now, his dull gaze never leaving the swirling and boiling mass of chaotic energy below. This was not the first time he had looked down and seen what lay below Tartarus. He had to admit it had always fascinated him looking down at the ancient chaotic being, the source of existence. The energy from which the Primordial Gods themselves were spawned.

Licking his heavily chapped lips Percy released his grip on his weapon, a smile passing across his face as he leaned forwards. His arms spreading out to the side, as he overbalanced and fell forward, his eyes clenched shut as he fell into chaos itself. Seeing only darkness even as he felt the skin being torn off of his limbs, and his body quickly breaking apart into golden dust the further he fell.

 **( - )**

A few seconds later, or at least from Percy's perspective. The Demigod Son of Poseidon soon found his vision filled with a searing white light, his ears suddenly being barraged by a cacophony of sounds. All of a sudden he found his previously strong if worn out body feeling weak and uncoordinated, his mind a confused jumble as dozens of different emotions and feelings hit him at once. So many that he wasn't sure who he was for a second.

Percy could only blink in confusion as the white light faded and the loud noises turned into pained screams, the screams soon being followed by a calming voice saying unintelligible words in a comforting tone. Blinking his eyes Percy was confused to find himself being lifted up, his body feeling damp and sticky. His eyes only widening further as he also discovered that he was also being held, in what seemed to be the arms of a giant of some sort.

Percy scowled at this, his irritation rising as he felt himself being moved around, his body being swaddled in some rough and course material. Quickly Percy vision began to return, a stone ceiling above him some becoming visible. Letting out an irritated sound that sounded more like a gurgle, Percy attempted to look round so he could take stock of his situation, only to once again find his body almost entirely unresponsive.

"It's a boy?" A female voice said jubilantly. "Your majesty it's a boy!"

Percy felt his bad mood worsening as he heard that, well of course he was a fucking boy. What else did they think he was? Actually wait he wasn't a boy, he was a man gods dammit!

A deep booming laugh followed the woman's statement, and Percy soon felt his world turning upside down as he found himself getting passed from one giant to an even bigger one. This one a huge hulking man, with calloused hands, a thick bushy black beard, twinkling blue eyes and rough weathered features.

Not liking how helpless he was suddenly feeling Percy tried to scowl as he found himself looking up at the giant beings face, somehow though he didn't think he succeeded in expressing his anger, as instead of looking worried or afraid the giant simply chuckled. His blue eyes locked happily on Percy's sea green eyes, even as his large black beard tickled Percy's face uncomfortably. His large hands holding Percy maybe a little too tightly than was comfortable.

"Aye he's a boy, a fighter too I bet!" The man said loudly as he held Percy up, a large grin spreading across his face as he used his other hand to prod Percy a bit.

In response Percy attempted to punch the man in the face, only for nothing to happen as he lacked either the strength or the coordination to escape from the cloth that he was currently swaddled in.

"Robert?" A tired female voice suddenly spoke up, getting both Percy and the now named Robert's attention.

Glancing back at the man Percy noticed a sheepish expression crossing his face as he chuckled amusedly to himself before passing Percy over to the woman that spoke. The irritated Demigod very much feeling like some kind of show poodle, as he heard a few other people in the room letting out soft cooing noises.

"Oh of course Cersei, here you go, our son." Robert said his voice still loud as he handed Percy over to someone else.

As this was happening Percy once again tried to express his indignation, he was Percy fucking Jackson dammit, the Slayer of Titans, the Bane of Giants, the Demigod son of Poseidon and Sally Jackson. Not that Percy's attempts at cursing worked, as he instead found himself being held carefully in a pair of warm arms. A set of tired yet gentle green eyes looking down at him.

Percy paused his vitriol at this point, the words leaving his mind as he saw the beautiful women that looked down at him. Her hair was sweaty and a complete mess, her eyes had dark rings under them, and she looked to be on the edge of exhaustion. But to Percy she still looked radiant, not because of her physical appearance though, but because of the sheer amount of love those eyes held when they looked down at him. It was a look only one woman had ever given him before, Sally Jackson, it was a look that only a mother could have when looking down at her child, a look of unconditional love.

 **( - )**

Cersei Lannister smiled tiredly as she saw her new born son suddenly stop squirming the moment he was in her arms. Her emerald, green eyes glistening with tears as she gently reached out a hand and stroke the tuft of black hair on the baby's head. Her gazed fixed on the child's sea green eyes.

This was her child, her first born son. Just looking down at him, Cersei forgot all else, instead focusing on the intensely intelligent eyes looking up at her. She didn't know it was possible for a child to appear so self-aware, but if ever a child was to, then she knew it would be her child.

"What do you want to call him?" Robert asked as he turned to his wife, the Queen, the large heavily built man moving so he was gently perched on the edge of her bed. A soft smile on his face as he looked down at the babe in Cersei's arms.

Looking up at Robert, her husband. Cersei felt for the first time since she had married him something like affection stirring up with her. Their married life so far had been stilted and difficult with Robert being still in love with a dead women, the King often using wine and whores to bury his pain, snubbing his wife as he did so. But as Cersei saw the look on Robert's face, a part of her hoped that maybe something could happen. Maybe there was a chance of something like love blossoming from their union, something that had been absent since their wedding night.

Smiling at Robert for what felt like the first time in months, Cersei then looked back down at her precious baby. Just looking at him, Cersei knew she would probably never love anything as much as she loved this baby. Not even Jamie her twin brother, and probably the most important person in her life prior to today.

"Cersei, a name." Robert prompted gently, an unusual act from the usually loud and boisterous man. Clearly the birth of his first 'legitimate' son was enough to make Robert Baratheon act responsibly.

Pushing the thoughts of her husband away for now Cersei instead focused on the baby in her arms, who even now was still quietly staring up at her. The sea green eyes looking more intelligent than was natural for a new born baby. As she looked at the baby multiple names ran through her head, including names like Stefan, Joffrey, and Roland. Cersei frowned as she thought of those, none of them names seemed to fit him.

Her mind then moved to other names, ones that were from her family like Tytos, Tommen, Tybolt and Tywin. Those old family names seemed better, but she didn't want to name him after another person, her first born son deserved to have a name all of his own.

"Cersei." Robert said again, his tone turning a little harder, as his patience began to wane.

Cersei had to hide a scowl at that, not liking that she was being rushed. She was after all about to choose the name that their son would carry for the rest of his life. A name that would one day go down in history as the greatest King Westeros had ever had.

"His name..." Cersei began, her smile softening as she looked down at the baby. "His name is Tytan Baratheon."

Robert paused as he heard that, his eyes narrowing before he slowly nodded his head, reaching over as he did so and picking the baby up. Ignoring Cersei's slight yelp of protest as he took the baby in his arms, his blue eyes locking with the baby's sea green. "Tytan Baratheon… I suppose that's good enough for our son. What do you think then Tytan?"

In response the baby in Robert's arms suddenly started bawling, making Robert wince as he thrust the child in the direction of the midwife, a grimace passing across his face. The child's wailing already getting on his nerves as he passed the newly named Tytan over to one of his wife's midwives. With that done, Robert then swiftly moved towards the door. "Right, well I'm off hunting!"

Cersei gave Robert a dull look at that, her eyes moving from the wailing baby to Robert in surprise and minor irritation. The slight affection that had been building within her for her husband fading as he decided on a whim to go hunting minutes after his new-born son was born. Robert not even meeting her gaze as he strode out of the room, the Warrior King not at all interested in dealing with wailing children, not when there were boars to hunt and whores to fuck.

As the midwives and Cersei fussed over the crying baby Tytan and the King fled the room. None of those that were present noticed how a jug of water left on a nearby table began to bubble as the baby continued crying.

 **( - )**

 **AN: So what did you all think? I hope you enjoy it, the history of Percy and the differences from canon will be explained as the story progresses. Hope you all leave a review.**

 **For those who are interested my PJ/RWBY story Moonlight is on hold while I work out the kinks in my new plan.**

 **This story should be updated relatively soon, hopefully.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Greed120.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: So here is the next chapter of 'The Last King'. I have to say I really appreciate the support this story has had so far and hope that you all continue reading and writing what I put out. I also appreciate all of the reviews I received and will answer as many of them as I can with PMs now I have finished this chapter and have the time.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones.**

 **(Last Time)**

 _Robert paused as he heard that, his eyes narrowing before he slowly nodded his head, reaching over as he did so and picking the baby up. Ignoring Cersei's slight yelp of protest as he took the baby in his arms, his blue eyes locking with the baby's sea green. "Tytan Baratheon… I suppose that's good enough for our son. What do you think then Tytan?"_

 _In response the baby in Robert's arms suddenly started bawling, making Robert wince as he thrust the child in the direction of the midwife, a grimace passing across his face. The child's wailing already getting on his nerves as he passed the newly named Tytan over to one of his wife's midwives. With that done, Robert then swiftly moved towards the door. "Right, well I'm off hunting!"_

 _Cersei gave Robert a dull look at that, her eyes moving from the wailing baby to Robert in surprise and minor irritation. The slight affection that had been building within her for her husband fading as he decided on a whim to go hunting minutes after his new-born son was born. Robert not even meeting her gaze as he strode out of the room, the Warrior King not at all interested in dealing with wailing children, not when there were boars to hunt and whores to fuck._

 _As the midwives and Cersei fussed over the crying baby Tytan and the King fled the room. None of those that were present noticed how a jug of water left on a nearby table began to bubble as the baby continued crying._

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 2**

 **( - )**

 **(In Westeros)**

A large cloud of mist appeared in front of Tytan Baratheon as he let out a satisfied sigh, a smile spreading across his handsome face as he surveyed the wild terrain of the North. This was the furthest north the young prince had ever been, and he had to admit, compared the hot, sweaty and stifling atmosphere of King's Landing the North held a certain charm.

At seventeen years old, or seven and ten namedays as they called it here in Westeros, Percy, or Tytan as he now begrudgingly went by had now been considered a man for over a year now. Not that that interested Tytan to much, as despite physically being only seventeen, mentally he was a much older even if occasionally he didn't act that way.

The last seventeen years for Tytan had been… trying to say the least. When he had first become conscious in this new world he had been a babe in arms, how this happened exactly Tytan wasn't sure, though he did think it had something to do with him leaping into the chaotic energies that below Tartarus. Such an action was sure to have had some strange consequences.

Even if those consequences were him somehow being reborn into a new world, one which was geographically completely different to his own. Luckily though when he had been born he had retained all the memories he had previously had, plus he was somehow still a demigod, even if his powers seemed somehow diminished, his connection to the domain of the sea and the earth not being as strong as it had been on earth.

Though that could might either be down to his father not existing in this world, or it could do with the magic in this world declining. The exact reason Tytan wasn't sure of, after all he was no scholar and the few Maesters he had spoken to did not know.

Still he retained his abilities and although not as powerful they set him far above normal men, he was stronger, faster and retained his control over the water and the earth, even if he had needed to trade raw power for refined control. What was more though was that people knew of these abilities.

Tytan when he had gone by the name of Percy Jackson, he had been reckless and bold. And Tytan, well Tytan was exactly the same person, as such he had had no shame when using his powers whenever it suited him.

Now if Tytan had been born a commoner he would likely have been accused of witchcraft and been drowned, lynched, burned alive take your pick. Luckily though he had been born the Crown Prince, as such when he used his abilities the Maesters had proclaimed him 'Blessed by the Seven'. They had also claimed that this was the God's way of honouring Robert for overthrowing the tyrannical Targaryens.

How much of this was their own words and how much was due to Tytan's mother Cersei forcing them to say this was debatable. But either way the uneducated masses lapped up the Maesters words.

So yeah, if he was honest with himself Tytan couldn't be happier to have been reborn into this world, it certainly beat traverse the hellish landscape of Tartarus for an eternity. That being said, a part of him still missed the people he had known before his torment in Tartarus, his mother Sally, his partner Annabeth, all his friends at Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter, but he had long ago come to terms with never seeing them again.

This was something he had come to terms with years before he had taken the leap, the relative isolation of Tartarus did give a person a lot of free time for self-examination after all.

Despite that though he was still happier to be here in Westeros, breathing fresh air, drinking clean water and not spending his every living moment in torment. This situation was made better by the fact that he had apparently been born the prince of a medieval like kingdom, or to be more exact a Crown Prince of Seven Kingdoms.

Again Tytan wasn't complaining, even if he did now have to go by the name Tytan. In a hard and unforgiving world like the one he had now been born into, he had been born into a royal family. The first legitimately born son of a King. He had been given everything he could have asked for, he wasn't about to turn his nose up at such a blessing and an opportunity

And opportunity it had been as whilst he was still a young child, his adult mind had allowed him to progress far faster than normal children. Allowing him to walk and talk far faster than many thought possible giving further weight to his ironic 'Blessed by the Gods' status.

Suffice to say his unnatural intelligence for his age and later his supernatural abilities had soon garnered him a lot of attention form Nobles and Maesters alike, and at Tytan's request he was soon being taught about Westeros including its history, its language, its geography and its religions.

It had all been very useful and Tytan had rapidly soaked up the knowledge, or at least he had as far as the continents history, geography and culture was concerned. The language, well that had been a lot more tricky, as it appeared that alongside his Demigod abilities he had also retained his ADHD and Dyslexia, not that any of the Maesters knew what these were. And unlike his abilities these traits were not lessened at all.

Luckily though his beloved mother had had an inkling, as apparently Tytan's uncle Jamie had had a similar affliction. One which he had been cured of by being forced day after day by his father, Tywin, to learn his letters until he had. Unfortunately his mother Cersei had taken that as a challenge and had personally sat the young Tytan down and force him to learn how to read and write.

Day after day she had forced him to learn, his mother drinking her wine and conducting her business whilst Tytan was sat at a desk working. That had been the first time that Tytan had resented his lot life, even if it had only been for a moment before reality had set in and he had realised what a little shit he was being.

That had been painfully embarrassing. Fortunately though he had prevailed and after a few months he had begun to make progress and eventually he had learned how to read and write in Westerosai.

The years that followed this had been quite pleasant for Tytan, being born into privilege like he was meant that he had had time to spare plus the wealth to have tutors in anything he had an interest in. Which for Tytan meant he had had the Kingdom's best warrior, Barristan Selmy teaching him to fight, or re-teaching him. Which for Tytan who retained all his old memories meant it was like a walk in the park, a prodigy was what they called him. After all, all he had needed to do was rebuild his muscle memory plus adapt his style to suit that of a Westerosai sword as oppose to Anaklumous.

Of course initially he had contemplated having a replica of Anaklumous made as he knew the sword better than anything, unfortunately though he didn't have the first clue about forging. The Children of Hephaestus having been the ones who forged and maintained the majority of his equipment. Plus he hadn't even tried in the end as he knew no replica could ever replace his blade, it would feel like nothing more than a hollow shell.

As the years continued to pass and Tytan became older and began gaining more responsibilities and gaining more freedom and independence, he began to gain something of a reputation. A reputation that only increased after he had begun talking part in tournaments at the age of sixteen, winning the joust and the melee several times over the past year and gaining himself a reputation as an exemplary warrior.

That's not to say that his reputation was all that golden, despite the prestige he had been born into, his martial abilities and the Demigod powers he retained. After all, after having spent however long in Tartarus, living in constant misery and discomfort, Tytan had, when he had become old enough, engaged in every vice he could.

From the age of twelve onwards he had drunk excessively, drinking fine wines and ales almost as much as his father. On top of that he had begun to delve into the pleasures of the flesh, bedding anything he could as he allowed himself to be consumed by his vices. For Tytan these pleasures has soothed the pain of his past miseries in Tartarus.

However his activities they had eventually become known had somewhat stained Tytan's reputation among the older nobles and the like, with many people comparing him to his drunkard, whore mongering father. It had taken him up until a few months ago to properly rein himself in, Tytan having to restrain himself from his urges, knowing as he did that they were only there because of his memories with Tartarus, one didn't walked away from the horrors of the pit without scars.

So yes for the most part he had had a good life here in Westeros, far better than it would have been had he been born a commoner, likely if that had happened he would have died young.

Recently though after he had begun to pull himself back together, he had come to a conclusion. First that yes he had been lucky to be born into the life he had been, but also that he was squandering that life. He was living that life only for his own enjoyment, his own satisfaction. This was the antithesis of the person Tytan believed himself to be.

This is why in recent months Tytan had decided that it was time for him to start learning about how to be a good king. Not a king like his father though, knowing as he did that Robot was an absolute turd of a king, one that made Zeus look semi decent. Instead Tytan wanted to be a king his people could look up to, one who brought about the betterment of his subjects. This meant he would have to learn more than just how to fight, or lead in a battle both of which being skills he had acquired when living the life of a simple Demigod, but he would also have to learn how to rule a large kingdom.

Letting out another Tytan turned away from the sprawling lands of the North, ignoring the complaints of the horse beneath him as he instead looked over at the man riding next to him.

The man next to him was Tytan's uncle, a tall blonde man, with green eyes and handsome features. This was Jamie Lannister, Tytan's mother's brother and a member of King Robert's Kingsguard and the one assigned to Tytan's own protection. Well him alongside the six other Lannister men-at-arms that were riding after the two of them, all of them wearing a mixture of mail and plate armour, with engraved pauldrons and tabards displaying the Lannister lion over their chests.

For the most part Tytan and Jamie got on despite their being a difference in their physical ages and their positions. After all they bothered loved fighting, and were naturals with a blade, with Tytan having in recent years usurped Jamie's title as the finest swordsman in Westeros, or at least as far as tournaments were concerned. On top of that they both shared a rather cynical view on life, as well as a general distain for Robert and a love for Cersei.

Though Tytan suspected the way he loved his mother was very different to the way Jamie loved her. Not that he was going to say anything, he had been or maybe still was a Demigod after all. Pretty much the entire of Tytan's divine family had been inbred. Hell Annabeth, Tytan's old girlfriend had been his cousin, plus a few naiads he had messed around with had been his half-sisters.

Which is why he wasn't too bothered about Jamie and Cersei's relationship and indiscretions, after all Robert was a shit person and his mother and uncle weren't hurting anyone. As long as they were both happy and kept it to themselves he didn't care.

This was mainly because he had begun to suspect that his three siblings, all of them younger than him with blonde hair and green eyes, Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella, were in fact the bastard offspring of Jamie and Cersei.

Which if Tytan was right and the truth came out, well he had no doubt that Robert wouldn't just kill Jamie and Cersei but would kill Tytan's siblings too. Which he would probably make Tytan kill Robert, as he was rather fond of his siblings, or at least Tommen and Myrcelle, he still wasn't sure about Joffrey. His younger brother having a bit of a psychotic streak in him that occasionally put Tytan on edge.

"Well by the looks of it we should be reaching Winterfell around midday." Tytan said as he looked over at Jamie, before he turned his head and looked over at the fortified city in the distance. The city being large as far as northern cities went, but still small compared to the massive expanse of King's Landing, the capital of Westeros.

The city they were approaching was known as Winterfell, the largest city in the north and the ancestral home of House Stark, the Wardens of the North, and a family his father was exceptionally fond of. Mainly because of his friendship with the current Lord Stark, Eddard.

In fact Eddard was the reason they were travelling to Winterfell. As a few months prior before this prolonged journey north began, the former Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, the King's adviser and a long time father figure to both Robert and Eddard had died.

Which meant that he had needed to be replaced, hence the entire royal family along with a grand procession taking a three month journey up north just so Robert could ask Ned Stark to be his Hand, something the fat King could have done in a raven. With Tytan having mentioned this possibility to his father several times.

"Yes, though knowing our luck it will take us another day." Jamie replied in a bored voice as he looked at the royal procession trailing behind them before looking over at his nephew a slight smile tugging at his face.

Tytan Baratheon, the Crown Prince of Westeros. He was a handsome man, which was something that no one could deny. His features were a perfect mix of Lannister and Baratheon, with Tytan having sea green eyes, short, thick black hair and a strong powerfully built body. The man fit the role of Crown Prince perfectly, from both the way he looked and the way he acted.

Currently the prince was wearing a set of leather armour, the leather being a dark brown colour with a suit of finely woven mail beneath it. The armour was a lot lighter than the gold coloured plate armour Jamie was wearing, and at the moment Jamie was somewhat jealous, as riding a horse in full plate was a sweaty and unpleasant business.

"True, but who says we have to wait with the damn procession?" Tytan replied cheerfully as he angled his horse away from the distance Winterfell and began to canter back to the column.

"What are you up too?" Jamie asked suspiciously as he and the prince's six other guards followed behind Tytan.

"Why just going to tell the fat man that I'm heading to Winterfell ahead of the rest of the procession." Tytan replied cheerfully. "I'll probably give him some bullshit about making sure that everything is in order for his arrival."

"You really think he'll believe that?" Jamie asked uncertainly, knowing as he did that as much as he despised Robert Baratheon, the man was not stupid.

"No of course not, but knowing the fat man he'll be either so drunk he's likely pissed himself, or will be balls deep in some whore. Either way he won't give a damn what I say and will want to get rid of me." Tytan replied, showing absolutely no respect for his father. The man far too often reminding Tytan of his old stepfather Gabe, so much so that it had destroyed any potential Tytan had of building a relationship with the man.

Not that Robert was at all interested in one. Initially when Tytan had begun to show off his control over water the King had taken an interest, and when Tytan had showed himself to be a prodigy with a blade that interest had heightened. But years of excessive drinking, and the clear preference Tytan showed for his mother had killed off any chance of them building a proper, healthy relationship.

Still though the King showed himself to be proud of Tytan's accomplishments, and often allowed him to take over Robert's duties like his seat at the Small Council, doling out the King's Justice and listening to petitions. That though was mainly because Robert hated doing that and instead wanted more time to fuck boars and hunt whores, or whatever it was he did.

"You know if any other man said that Robert would have their tongue cut out." Jamie spoke up blithely.

"It's a good thing I'm not any other man then, isn't it?" Tytan responded with a large grin as he and his entourage met up with the procession, Tytan heading for where his red faced, wine swigging father was barely staying on his horse.

 **( - )**

Riding away from the Royal Procession, Tytan couldn't help but grin as he and his small group ate up the distance to Winterfell. Grinning wider he exulted in the freedom of just galloping through the countryside, it beat the dreary pace the procession set, hampered as it was by all of the large wagons, camp followers and the King and Queens regular stop offs.

With his mother either getting board of riding in her heavy and ornate carriage with her other children and her ladies and waiting, the Queen instead wishing to stretch her legs or have luncheon in the fresh air. That or Robert deciding he wanted to go hunting on a whim, or getting so pissed the procession had to stop so he could be thrown in the back of one of the wagons.

Either way the pace had been stifling, and over that time Tytan who was always prone to boredom had been getting antsy. After all the only fun he had had in weeks was the occasional spar with Jamie or Barristan, or every now and then the chance to lead some of the guardsmen out to rout a gang of bandits or thugs. One of the many that plagued the King's Road, often looking for merchant caravans they could raid.

The last chance he had had though was over a hundred leagues back down the King's Road, with such opportunities becoming far sparser the further the column travelled up north. Now though, now Tytan was finally able to break free, with him now heading to Winterfell, under the assumption that he was 'making sure everything was ready for the King's arrival'.

His conversation with his father had been about what he had expected. He had ridden over to the King, only to find him already somewhat drunk and telling Barristan stories of his past glories. Suffice to say when Tytan had told him what he was going to do, the man had just waved him on, telling him to 'do as he wanted'.

Tytan had ended up taking him at his word and had since ridden away from the slow moving column. Both Jamie and the six Lannister guardsmen assigned to his protection riding with him.

"So what are you planning to do once we reach Winter Town, Tytan?" Jamie called out as he moved his horse so it was now riding beside his nephew, referencing the small town that had sprung up around the Winterfell as he did so. "After all we can't arrive before the King, it would be seen as inappropriate."

"Well I'll probably explore, see if there are any good inns to visit." Tytan replied in amusement as he heard Jamie's worries, legitimate as they were. "Who knows we may run into your little brother whilst we are there. He did ride ahead of the main party earlier after all, knowing him he is probably begging for a shag at one of Winterfell's brothels."

"As if you weren't planning on visiting there yourself." Jamie replied with a short laugh, the older man having long come to terms with Tytan's many vices and oddities. "Also I would save your jests for when you see Tyrion. Knowing how you two get on you'll be trading barbs and insults by the end of the night, and with my brother's sharp tongue you'll need all the ammunition you can."

Tytan laughed as he heard that, knowing as he did that what Jamie said was true, as Tytan and Tyrion's relationship was odd to say the least. For the most part the two of them got along relatively well, both of them bonding over a shared love of wine and women. But they also argued often with Tytan being a man of action whilst Tyrion was a man of words, often time this led to them clashing over the pettiest of things.

"True, true. Now come along Uncle, time's wasting!" Tytan replied with a laugh as he dug his heels gently into the flanks of his horse, grinning as he heard his horse whinny of delight at finally being able to run free.

"Oi, wait up!" Jamie shouted as he saw the young prince riding away, heading down the King's Road and on to the distant city of Winterfell.

 **( - )**

 **AN: So this chapter might have felt like a bit of an info dump and I am sorry about that but I wanted to set out the scene whilst leaving me enough room to develop it. Also I didn't want to spend to long writing about child Percy as the life of a pampered prince wouldn't be all that fun to right about. That being said now Percy has grown up he has begun to understand his responsibilities, putting aside his own selfish desires as he comes to terms with his future duties.**

 **Another issue I would like to deal with is Percy's Demigod powers, as was described he still has them. Even if they are diminished, this is something that will be explained and come into the story later, though I think some people may likely have guessed where I am going with this.**

 **There is also Percy's revealing them. Now for this I have a reason because unlike in stories like Harry Potter where the MC was encouraged to hide his magical abilities form none magicals, Percy never had to do this. Instead he had the Mist, a supernatural veil that hid the divine from the mortal. As such Percy was never that cautious about using his abilities in public, and that was only exasperated by his stay in Tartarus. To put it simply Percy is happy in his own skin, he is confident in who he is and won't hide and integral part of himself like his powers.**

 **Or at least that is the way I saw it, which is why Percy/ Tytan when he realised the position he had been born into has revealed what he can do and let people make their own conclusions about it. Luckily for him though he had a mother like Cersei who loves all her children and is more than willing to bully, manipulate and threaten people. Hence the medieval propaganda machine having Tytan proclaimed as a child blessed by the god. This will be covered in greater depth as the story continues.**

 **For now though I hope you all liked the chapter and yes next chapter will officially start Game of Thrones canon as Percy's presence did not stop Jon Arryn from dying as Percy himself did not know it was going to happen and believes him to have just died of illness. Though things won't stay canon for long.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Greed120.**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: So here is the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy it, it was fun to write most of this story though there were a few bits that were quite annoying and frustrating to write. But I persevered and managed to get this chapter out fast than I thought I would.**

 **Also I was wondering if anyone could recommend me some Game of Throne stories that I could read?**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones.**

 **( - )**

 **(Last Time)**

 _"_ _Well I'll probably explore, see if there are any good inns to visit." Tytan replied in amusement as he heard Jamie's worries, legitimate as they were. "Who knows we may run into your little brother whilst we are there. He did ride ahead of the main party earlier after all, knowing him he is probably begging for a shag at one of Winterfell's brothels."_

 _"_ _As if you weren't planning on visiting there yourself." Jamie replied with a short laugh, the older man having long come to terms with Tytan's many vices and oddities. "Also I would save your jests for when you see Tyrion. Knowing how you two get on you'll be trading barbs and insults by the end of the night, and with my brother's sharp tongue you'll need all the ammunition you can."_

 _Tytan laughed as he heard that, knowing as he did that what Jamie said was true, as Tytan and Tyrion's relationship was odd to say the least. For the most part the two of them got along relatively well, both of them bonding over a shared love of wine and women. But they also argued often with Tytan being a man of action whilst Tyrion was a man of words, often time this led to them clashing over the pettiest of things._

 _"_ _True, true. Now come along Uncle, time's wasting!" Tytan replied with a laugh as he dug his heels gently into the flanks of his horse, grinning as he heard his horse whinny of delight at finally being able to run free._

 _"_ _Oi, wait up!" Jamie shouted as he saw the young prince riding away, heading down the King's Road and on to the distant city of Winterfell._

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 3**

 **( - )**

 **(In Winterfell)**

"You know, I hear they call him the Black Prince because he wears nothing but black." A young girl with pale skin and brown hair muttered as she looked up at a slightly older girl. The other girl being quite a bit taller as the speaker, as well as having waist length auburn hair.

Both of the girls were currently standing towards the front of a small group of people, the pair of them both wearing thick fur cloaks and fine clothes, and ones that were more than fit for nobles. These two girls were Sansa and Arya Stark, the two daughters of Eddard Stark the Warden of the North and the Lord of Winterfell. The pair of them were waiting alongside their father, their mother and their three brothers as well as a number of other vassals and lesser nobles for the arrival of the King and his entourage.

"You've just made that up now." Sansa the auburn haired girl muttered back to her younger sister, her expression not changing as she stood straight her eyes locked on the gate to Winterfell's keep, knowing as she did that the King's party would soon be arriving and that their mother Catelyn would expect all of the Stark children to represent their house properly. "No one calls him that and you have no idea what he wears."

Arya the younger girl merely shrugged in response. "Yeah but it could be true. Besides, I have heard that he is the finest blade in Westeros and that he's apparently blessed by the gods…."

Sansa nodded abruptly as she heard that bit, as she too had heard the same. How much of it was true though and how much of it was merely rumour spread by the commoners she wasn't sure.

"I wonder what gods blessed him though, do you reckon it was the Seven or the Old Gods?" Arya continued to mutter as she took her eyes off her sister and instead looked at the rest of her family, slightly annoyed that she hadn't had the chance to get away from her overbearing mother and get a first look at the Royal family.

Her younger brothers Bran and Rickon Stark were both standing to her left. With Rickon, the youngest Stark child shaking slightly a she gripped onto the side of Bran's cloak an equally nervous and excited expression on his face as he waited for the arrival of the King. Directly next to Arya was Bran, who despite being a year younger than her was still a little bit taller, with the boy having a skinny frame, shoulder length brown hair and delicate features reminiscent more of their mother Catelyn than their father.

On Arya's other side was Sansa her older sister who stood several inches taller than Arya with long auburn hair, blue eyes and quite a pretty appearance, with her taking after their mother as well. Unlike Arya who took after their father with her dull brown hair, a slightly long face and grey eyes.

On the other side of Sansa was Robb, Arya's oldest brother and the Heir of Winterfell. At seventeen nearly eighteen he was an almost fully grown man with broad shoulders and handsome features, like the rest of the Stark children though he took after Catelyn with him having developed reddish colour hair and blue eyes.

Glancing past Robb, Arya could see her father, Eddard Stark, a large man with very broad shoulders, made only bigger by the thick fur coat he was wearing. The man had stern features, shoulder length brown hair and stoic grey eyes.

By his side was Arya's lady mother, Catelyn Stark, formerly a member of House Tully Catelyn stood out from most of the surrounding northerners both due to her bearing and her choice of clothing. Arya's mother was a beautiful if slightly strict woman with sky blue eyes, long auburn hair and a tall thin body. Like the rest of the family though this could barely be seen at present as she was wearing a thick wolf fur cloak over her expensive dress.

Looking away from her mother Arya then looked further down the line seeing the stoic features and wild black hair of her other sibling as she did, or rather her bastard born half sibling, Jon Snow. The boy in question being buried toward the back of the crowd of waiting nobles and retainers, with Catelyn Stark having tried to put him both out of sight and out of mind. The Stark matriarch not wanting the boy to embarrass the family during the King's visit.

Not that Arya would forget Jon as he was one of her favourite siblings even if he was a bastard. Still her mother hated the boy that much was clear for everyone to see, so for now Arya wouldn't draw attention to him.

"Well what do you think?" Arya continued to ask as she looked back to her sister, noticing as she did that she hadn't answered her question.

"Shut up Arya they're about to arrive." Sansa muttered back quietly still not looking at her sister as she tried to shut her up, partly because the King and his party was about to arrive and she didn't want Arya embarrassing them, and partly because she didn't want to admit to her younger sister than she didn't know the answer.

Father down the line Eddard Stark, often referred to as Ned, let out another sigh as he heard his daughters muttered conversation. The older man having to push down a very slight smile as their bickering reminded him of the arguments he used to have with his brothers and sister, Brandon, Benjen and Lyanna, when he was their age.

Pushing those thoughts aside for now, Ned instead focused on the matter at hand. It had been over a few months since Ned had received a raven telling him that the King of the Seven Kingdoms was coming to Winterfell. And because of this the last few months had been hectic as invitations were sent out to all the Houses in the North and the entire of Winterfell had become a hive of activity as people rushed to ensure everything would be ready for when the King arrived. After all this would be the first time in many years that a King of the Seven Kingdoms had come this far up north.

Ned of course knew the reason for this, Jon Arryn, Ned and Robert's friend the man who they had both warded with as children had died. This had upset Ned but not too unduly as Jon had been in his sixties and had lived a full life, but still the loss had hit him hard made more so by the fact he hadn't seen the man in over nine years.

Of course with the loss of Jon Arryn this left the positon of Hand of the King open, which is of course what Robert was coming north for. At some point during this visit Ned knew that Robert would ask him to become the new Hand, and from what he remembered of his old friend he rarely ever took no for an answer.

Still despite this Ned was looking forward to the visit as Robert had been a dear friend. Plus for years he had been hearing stories of his eldest son, Tytan Baratheon, stories of how he had divine powers and of how he was unmatched in skill with a blade. At first Ned had waved such stories off as nonsense, all of it having been spurred on by excitable commoners, after all the time of magic and mysticism had long since passed.

But as the years had passed and these stories continued a part of him had begun to wonder, after all the gods worked in mysterious ways. Because of this a part of Ned wanted to see just what this Crown Prince was like, what he was made of, especially since some of the stories he had heard painted him as a blessed and noble warrior, whilst other painted him as a drunkard and a whoremonger. It would be interesting to see just what kind of a man his future king was going to be.

Ned pushed aside those thoughts for now however as he heard the distant clatter of hooves on stone, a telltale sign that the King was about to make his entrance and that soon enough he would have his answer to just what kind of a man the Crown Prince truly was.

 **( - )**

 **(Some time earlier)**

"You know nephew when you said you would be coming to Winterfell ahead of the rest of the procession, I had imagined you doing something a bit more… than, well a bit more than this…" Jamie Lannister said a slightly amused tone to his voice as he looked around the brothel that Tytan had ended up bringing them too. No doubt one of the very few that existed here in Winterfell.

The Prince in question was currently sitting sprawled out on a seat, an attractive red head with a glorious body and attractive features was currently sat on his lap, one of her small hands currently shoved down the Prince's breeches a slight grin on her face as she looked up from kissing Tytan and smirked at Jamie.

"Come on now Jamie, we've been on the road for months." Tytan replied cheerfully as he looked up from where he had been previously nuzzling into redhead's neck. "Call it a bit of tension release."

Jamie rolled his eyes at that as he took a seat nearby, waving away a nearby whore who had been hovering around him as he instead grabbed a goblet and filled it with wine. "And there I was thinking you'd decided to turn over a new leaf."

"I have uncle." Tytan replied with a grin as he looked over at the girl on his lap, smiling slightly as he saw the faux pout on her face. "Hence why I'm not drunk and am only courting the attention of this lovely lady. Speaking of which what is your name again?"

"It's Ros milord." The redhead replied in a husky voice, a smirk present on her face as she continued to move her hand up and down, leaning forward as she did and kissing her way up Tytan's neck.

"Well Ros what do you think we should be doing, riding as a part of a slow moving procession in the bitterly cold wind? Or staying in this delightful little inn with warmth, wine and fine women?" Tytan asked a grin on his face as he held Ros a little tighter to himself, delighting in the feeling of her lips as they glided up his neck before reaching his own. After which she engaged him in a fierce and fiery kiss.

"Well I think you chose the best option… certainly for me." Ros replied shamelessly as she broke the kiss, a slight smirk on her face as she looked over at Jamie in amusement.

"Well there you have it uncle, now how about we get you a woman of your own. I'm sure there will be some takers, after all you're Jamie 'fucking' Lannister." Tytan said with a grin, the expression only growing as he saw his uncle roll his eyes.

"I think you're mistaking me for my younger brother Tyrion…" Jamie replied dryly. "Besides I am a member of the Kingsguard."

"And your point is?" Tytan asked with a grin, enjoying needling his uncle a bit as he did so. It was all in good fun after all.

"My point dear nephew is that the King will be arriving at Winterfell soon and it would be improper and embarrassing for us to not be there with him. Certainly for you not to be there at least." Jamie replied as he sipped his wine, wondering as he did so just what his sister would think if she saw just what her precious son was up to.

"I take your point Uncle." Tytan replied with a nod and a serious look, before a grin suddenly broke out across his face as he stood up still holding Ros easily in his arms as he did so. "Well anyway I'm off, I'll be back in a bit, hopefully in time for us to make the meet and greet up at the castle!"

Ros let out a delighted laugh as this was happening, "I take it then that I'm about to take your own point… my Prince?"

Tytan grinned as he heard this. "I like this girl!"

Jamie rolled his eyes as he heard that, "Of course you do, she is just as shameless as you. Unlike you though Tytan she is supposed to be shameless, as the future ruler of the Seven Kingdoms you're not."

"So you say." Tytan replied absentmindedly as he ignored his uncle for the most part, more interested at the moment in the beautiful and vibrant red head in his arms.

"I don't know why I bother…" Jamie sighed as he took another drink of his wine, shaking his head in amusement as he watched Tytan carry Ros into one of the nearby rooms, the door slamming behind them as the woman's laughter was soon replaced by moaning and giggling.

Looking away from where his nephew had just disappeared Jamie instead looked around the rest of the room, shaking his head in amusement as he saw the Prince's other guards all following his lead as they made the acquaintance of the many girls who worked in the brothel. Noticeably however none of them were as fine as the one the prince was currently bedding.

Jamie however was soon distracted from this sight as he saw the door to the building suddenly open letting in a blast of cold air as more Lannister guardsmen entered. These ones wearing the Lannister colours but lacking the fine plate armour that the Prince's guards had. Though considering those men had all been specifically picked out to protect the Crown Prince this wasn't surprising.

Shaking his head Jamie knew who was about to enter, because as much as Tytan and Tyrion argue they both tended to think in a similar way. Standing up Jamie watched as his younger brother entered the building, the man standing at under four feet tall, with messy blonde hair, intelligent green eyes and slightly deformed features.

"Brother!" Tyrion said as he entered, a smirk spreading across his face as he spotted Jamie standing by one of the tables. "Why I never thought I would see a person of your renown in a place like this."

"I would like to say I thought the same about you… but then I would be lying." Jamie replied with a slight smile. "I do have to say though, with you having ridden ahead I would have thought you would have been shacked up with half a dozen whores by now."

"Alas the journey was a bit hard on me." Tyrion replied as he waddled over to where his brother was standing, the siblings both pulling up seats as Tyrion sat down and poured himself out some of Jamie's wine. "By the time we made it to Winterfell I was rubbed raw, and not in the good way."

Jamie winced as he heard that, knowing as he did that due to his brother's affliction that riding a horse was very uncomfortable, no matter how much padding was put on the saddle he was going to chafe.

"Still though I'm here now and am going to get myself a quick shag in before we have to deal with the Starks." Tyrion replied in amusement as he took a long swig of his wine before refilling it, uncaring that he was drinking most of the wine his brother had bought.

"Yes it's going to be trying to say the least." Jamie replied carefully, his eyes flitting around the room checking for people potentially listening in. Not that he needed to as the tension between the Starks and Lannisters was well known, and had been since King Robert had first taken up the crown.

Jamie's own relationship with the Stark's was especially strained, as it had been Ned Stark who had found him after he had slain the Mad King, the Targaryen tyrant who had been usurped by Robert. The man had found Jamie soon after the deed, soon after he had cut the Aerys Targaryen down before he could order the deaths of nearly every person in King's Landing, not that Ned Stark had cared to ask the reasoning behind Jamie's actions before he had labelled him an Oathbreaker and a Kingslayer. Both of which had been names that had stuck with Jamie even now many years later.

Fortunately though Jamie only really cared about the opinions of those closest to him. Cersei, Tyrion, and Tytan, they at least all knew the truth behind his actions.

Of course them knowing this had also created certain ill feelings within them for the Starks as Cersei, the person he loved most in the world, held nothing but hatred for all the Starks for the way Ned Stark's words and accusations had painted Jamie. Tyrion too had gained somewhat of a dislike for the Starks, though not to the extent of Cersei, the dwarf instead limited himself to slight distaste as oppose to outright hatred and mistrust.

As for Tytan, well he had also gained a certain dislike of Ned Stark over the issue, unlike the other two though he held no ill will to the Stark family. The young Prince being surprisingly noble when he said that people should not be judged for the sins of their fathers. Then again Tytan was always full of little nuggets of wisdom like that, far more than was normal for someone of his age. Then again he was apparently 'Blessed by the Gods', so maybe it wasn't that strange.

"Well anyway." Tyrion spoke up as he downed the last of his wine. "I'm going to get myself a girl. I heard in the town that there is a really beauty here. A girl called Ros, apparently she is beautiful enough to put some of the finest courtesans in King's Landing to shame."

Jamie let out a slight chuckle at that, his elbow resting on the table with his head in his hand as he gave his brother an amused look. "Well if you're looking for an audience with her you'll have to wait until she is done with Tytan, though considering how tightly she was clinging onto him I very much doubt you'll ever get a chance."

Tyrion let out an exasperated sigh at that. "I thought he was supposed to be acting like a proper Prince now."

"You're only saying that because you don't like the competition." Jamie replied in amusement, a slight grin spreading across his face at the put out look on his younger brother's face.

"Well it's not exactly a fair competition. I mean you're comparing the unwanted dwarf son of Tywin Lannister with the handsome Crown Prince who by the way happens to have magic powers… I wonder who all the women will choose." Tyrion complained only half serious, because as much as he and his nephew liked to argue he was actually fond of the man. He was far better than that sack of shit Joffrey. On top of which the boy had never once said a deliberately cruel thing about Tyrion's disabilities, even when he was a kid he chose to value people on the merit and nothing else. It was an admirable trait that Tyrion very much respected.

"Welcome to life, it's unfair isn't it." Jamie replied dryly.

"You know I'm supposed to be the cynical one, not you." Tyrion replied in amusement. "Though you should probably hurry the young Prince up, after all the King's procession is only a league or so away."

"Which give us what, about an hour or so by the time they make it through the town?" Jamie replied with a cocked eyebrow, knowing well enough just how slow the procession was. After all it had taken them three months to do a journey which followed a single road from King's Landing to Winterfell, a journey which would likely have taken a troop of horsemen less than a month.

"True." Tyrion replied with a shrug. "Well anyway I'm going to get myself a whore, what about you, are you going to avail yourself of their company."

Jamie gave Tyrion a dull look at that, not rising to the bait.

 **( - )**

 **(Currently in the Winterfell Courtyard)**

As the sound of clip clopping hooves on stone drew closer Robb Stark, the eldest child of Eddard Stark and the heir of Winterfell, leaned forwards a look of anticipation on his face as he ignored his two sisters whispered conversation and instead waited for the King to arrive.

A few moments later the first of the royal procession arrived through the gates of Winterfell. The first ones into the courtyard were a half dozen mounted flagbearers, all of the armoured men were holding large banners that held either the sigil of a prancing Stag with a crown around its neck, the symbol of the first Baratheon King. That or they displayed the sigil of House Lannisters, a symbol of a roaring lion on a crimson background.

Following behind the flagbearers were two members of the Kingsguard, an elite group of the finest warriors in the Seven Kingdoms, all seven of whom had sworn their lives to protect the king and the royal family.

After the men in golden plate armour there came a boy slightly younger than Robb with shoulder length blonde hair, slightly pointed features and emerald green eyes. Unlike the other members of the procession so far though this boy was not wearing armour but instead was wearing high quality clothing that reflected the colours of House Lannister with a deep red jerkin and breeches with gold lions on it and a fine crimson cloak with a black fur trim around his shoulders.

Robb frowned as he saw this boy, at first thinking that this was the legendary Crown Prince he had heard so much about. He was not quite what he was expecting, but the blonde ponce on the horse was far less impressive than the stories he had heard.

Further down the line of Stark children Robb could see his younger sister's face instantly light up as she stared at the golden haired prince. Looking back at the boy, Robb scowled slightly as he saw the smug smirk on his face as he looked over at Robb's sister. In that instant Robb decided he didn't give a damn about how blessed the Prince was, he decided right here and now that he didn't like him.

Following behind the blonde prince was another armoured man, this one being a colossal man wearing dark coloured plate armour with a helmet that had been crafted in the shape of a snarling dog, a huge great sword strapped to his back.

Following behind this man was then the royal carriage, a big lumbering thing with ornate gold decorations showing the Lannister lion and the Baratheon stag, and following behind that was the king himself, Robert Baratheon.

The instant Robb saw the man a surge of disappointment rose up in him, this was the King of the Seven Kingdom. The man didn't look anything like the stories his father use to tell him of a warrior king, one who gathered a rebellion and defeated the tyrannical Mad King and ended the Targaryen dynasty. The man that Robb saw was nothing like that. In fact he looked more like a fat drunkard than he did a warrior king.

Despite the man's less than kingly appearance though everyone knelt as Robert rode into the courtyard, four other Kingsguard following closely behind him.

As the king came to a halt, one of the party's squires ran over to him carrying a stool over to help the overweight and possibly drunk Robert off his horse.

Once he had his feet on the ground Robert then walked over to the kneeling Ned Stark, a gruff expression on his face as he motioned for everyone to stand up. Which is what they all did as Robert finally came to a stop in front of the northern lord, the two of them staring at each other for a moment.

As this was happening everyone else in the courtyard could feel the tension between the two building, with many of those present thinking that something bad was about to go down.

"Your grace." Ned said slowly as he bowed his head to the slightly taller but far fatter man.

The king cocked his head to the side not taking his eyes off of Ned's stoic expression. After a few moments of silence the king finally spoke. "You got fat."

The whole yard grew silent at that, Robb looking uncomfortably at his father as he heard that, wondering how he would reply after all the man was the king, you couldn't just tell him to 'fuck off'. To his surprise though Ned didn't reply audibly as he instead merely glanced down at the king's large stomach, his eyebrow raising in amusement.

Pausing for a second Robert then broke the silence by letting out a large bark of laughter, his large belly shaking as he threw his head back before taking a step forward and pulling Ned into a large manly hug.

Soon after that Robert then turned to greet Lady Stark, shouting out "Cat! Good to see you!" as he did so.

Not that Robb paid much attention to this as he instead looked over at the royal carriage, his eyes widening slightly as he saw an incredibly beautiful blonde woman stepping out of the carriage, a look of distaste on her face as she looked around the courtyard.

Following behind the Queen, for that was the only person this could be, were two younger blonde children. One a boy of around Arya's age with golden blonde hair and piercing green eyes and similar looking girl who looked younger at around Bran's age.

It didn't take long for Robb to come to the conclusion that these two children were the young Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella. Which would mean that the other blonde prince, the one who he thought was Tytan may in fact be the Queen's other son, Joffrey. Which begged the question of where the Crown Prince was.

"My Queen." Ned said as he bowed to the approaching woman, taking her proffered hand in her own and laying a light kiss on her knuckles.

"Lord Stark." Cersei replied absentmindedly as she looked around the courtyard, seemingly looking for someone.

Before anyone could wonder who she was looking for though, they were distracted by the sound of approaching horses. Everyone in the courtyard turning around as eight more riders entered. Six of the riders all wearing full red and black plate armour a Lannister lion and Baratheon stag emblazoned on their chest plates.

In front of these six soldiers though were two other men, one of them was a handsome older man with golden blonde hair and piercing green eyes. The man in question currently wearing a full set of golden Kingsguard armour. This man could only be Jamie Lannister.

As for the other man, he had short black hair, twinkling sea green eyes and was wearing a set of mail and leather armour, a finely crafted yet surprisingly undecorated sword strapped to his side. The moment he saw him Robb instantly knew that this was the Crown Prince, there was just something about him that drew the eye, maybe the air of confidence or maybe the sheer presence he gave off.

Either way his sudden appearance attracted the attention of the entire courtyard as he pulled his horse to a stop, before with a slight grin he swung himself off his horse.

"Sorry I'm a little late!" The Prince said loudly as he looked around the courtyard, his cheeks have a hint of red at them as he looked around.

"My Prince." Ned replied as he gave the man a slight bow. "It's an honour meet you."

"You as well Lord Stark, I've heard so much about you!" Tytan replied his smile turning a little tighter as he greeted Robb's father, before he proceeded to do the same with the rest of the Stark family. Finally coming to a stop in front of Robb as he gave him a nod.

"Well met Robb Stark, I hope we get a long just like our father's do." Tytan said as he gripped Robb's hand in his own, Robb noticing as he did so the calluses on the Prince's hands, and the strength of the grip. They were the same hands Robb's father had, the hands of a warrior.

 **( - )**

 **AN: So what did you all think, at this point I am just introducing all the characters. Things will pick up as we move along. For the moment though events will stay similar to canon, however they will start to divert very soon before going completely off the rails by the end of the first season.**

 **Other than that I don't have much to say just that now I have a bit of time I will be able to start answering more of the questions I am asked.**

 **Thanks a lot for reading.**

 **Greed120.**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Hello all here is the next chapter of the Last King, I hope you all enjoy it. I really appreciate all the support I have had so far and I hope you all continue to enjoy it and leave a review at the end. If you have any questions or suggestions PM me and I'll be happy to answer.**

 **Would have had this out sooner but I got stuck halfway through. Ended up writing a draft first chapter for a Fairy Tail/ High School DxD story before I got the inspiration I needed to finish the chapter. Not sure if I'll publish the new chapter though.**

 **Hope you enjoy the story.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Throne.**

 **( - )**

 **(Last Time)**

 _In front of these six soldiers though were two other men, one of them was a handsome older man with golden blonde hair and piercing green eyes. The man in question currently wearing a full set of golden Kingsguard armour. This man could only be Jamie Lannister._

 _As for the other man, he had short black hair, twinkling sea green eyes and was wearing a set of mail and leather armour, a finely crafted yet surprisingly undecorated sword strapped to his side. The moment he saw him Robb instantly knew that this was the Crown Prince, there was just something about him that drew the eye, maybe the air of confidence or maybe the sheer presence he gave off._

 _Either way his sudden appearance attracted the attention of the entire courtyard as he pulled his horse to a stop, before with a slight grin he swung himself off his horse._

 _"_ _Sorry I'm a little late!" The Prince said loudly as he looked around the courtyard, his cheeks have a hint of red at them as he looked around._

 _"_ _My Prince." Ned replied as he gave the man a slight bow. "It's an honour meet you."_

 _"_ _You as well Lord Stark, I've heard so much about you!" Tytan replied his smile turning a little tighter as he greeted Robb's father, before he proceeded to do the same with the rest of the Stark family. Finally coming to a stop in front of Robb as he gave him a nod._

 _"_ _Well met Robb Stark, I hope we get a long just like our father's do." Tytan said as he gripped Robb's hand in his own, Robb noticing as he did so the calluses on the Prince's hands, and the strength of the grip. They were the same hands Robb's father had, the hands of a warrior._

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 4**

 **( - )**

 **(In Winterfell)**

Looking around the courtyard a slight grin spread across Tytan's face as he looked away from the assembled Stark family all of whom we relooking at him curiously, and instead met the intense green eyes of his mother, whose sharp expression like many in the courtyard was currently locked on him.

Suppressing a wince as he saw that look, Tytan long having come to the conclusion that that look would inevitably lead to his mother scolding him for one thing or another. Not that her verbal tongue lashing bothered Tytan that much, it was more just a pain in the arse.

Looking away from his mother Tytan then finished greeting the assembled Starks, going through the motions appropriately greeting Lady Stark and her two daughters before moving on to the Heir of House Stark, an auburn haired man who looked to be around the same age as him physically, even if he still had the naive eyes of a boy. Still his grip was strong and he didn't look away when Tytan met his gaze, both of which were good signs.

Tytan turned away from the Starks after this, ignoring the loud shout from his father as he did so, who seemingly completely ignored Tytan's late arrival and instead demanded that Ned Stark take him down to the crypts so he could pay his respects. With this meaning he would go visit the remains of Lynna Stark, the 'love of his life', where he would wallow and grieve over the remains of a long dead and buried girl, one who he had hardly even known.

Instead with his greetings now given and the royal procession beginning to unload their luggage, Tytan took the opportunity to approach his mother, a large smile spreading across his face as he ignored the eye roll from Jamie, and the dirty look Joffrey sent him, the little shit.

"Hello mother, and can I just say how glorious you are looking to day." Tytan said loudly as he approached Cersei, wrapping the much smaller woman in a large hug as he did so.

"Where were you Tytan?" Cersei asked quietly as she allowed her son to hug her, using the opportunity to whisper in his ear and get answers from him without any of the nearby Starks hearing. "You were almost late? I thought you rode ahead?"

"Almost late, but not quite." Tytan whispered back as he released her, a smile on his face as he saw her roll her eyes at his nonchalant response.

Turning away from the Queen, Tytan then turned his attention to the three blondes that were standing nearby. A smile spreading across his face as he saw the smiling faces of his younger brother and sister, Tommen and Myrcella, both of whom had the blonde hair and green eyes of House Lannister.

"And how are my little brother and sister?" Tytan asked as he looked down at the two, receiving a shy smile from the both of them as they looked up at him.

"It was so boring…" Myrcella replied, ignoring the look her mother gave her as she instead looked up at Tytan, the one brother she admired above anyone else.

"Yeah it was, which is why I rode ahead." Tytan replied with a grin as he ruffled her golden hair, "So are you looking forward to exploring Winterfell?"

"Yeah this place looks brilliant, so different to the Red Keep!" Tommen spoke up excitedly, an enthusiastic smile on his face as he looked around the cold grey courtyard, the younger boy admiring just how different it was to anything he had seen before.

"Really, you actually want to explore this place?" A sarcastic, petulant voice suddenly spoke up, drawing the attention of the three siblings over to the middle child, Joffrey. The Prince who was second in line for the thrown looking at Tytan with distaste as he saw the informality with which he acted and the inelegant sweaty armour he was wearing instead of fine silks that Joffrey paraded around in.

"Ahh Joffrey, you looking a bit upset? What happened get beaten up by a kitten?" Tytan ask his smile becoming somewhat fixed as he looked over at his younger brother. The relationship between the two having long been strained as Joffrey grated under the attention and recognition Tytan got from their mother and the rest of the court. The jealously within Joffrey having been simmering for a long time, only growing the older he got as he forever found himself standing in the shadow of his blessed older brother.

Sneering slightly Joffrey made to retort to Tytan, recognizing the cat dig for what it was, before he could though Cersei once again spoke up. The blonde gaining a slightly sharp glint in her eye as she looked between her two eldest sons, aware as she did that they were not alone in the courtyard and that a number of nobles including the Starks were also present.

"Boys, do remember that we are guests of House Stark." Cersei said reminding the two of just where they were. "Tytan, I am feeling somewhat drained after the journey."

Tytan nodded as he heard that, offering his arm to his mother, who upon seeing the action looped her hand through it as she allowed Tytan to escort her into the keep. As the two of them were leaving the courtyard, both Jamie and another member Kingsguard escorting them, Tytan heard the youngest Stark daughter, Arya he briefly recalled from their very swift greeting, speak up.

"Where's the Imp?" The younger girl asked curiously, gaining the attention of Tytan and Cersei as they passed, the younger girl likely wanting to see the shortest member of House Lannister.

"Arya!" Catelyn Stark suddenly said sternly as she gave her younger daughter and a scolding look, before she glanced up at the Queen and Tytan, an apologetic expression on her face.

Cersei however just ignored the comment, whilst Tytan snorted as he heard the nickname Tyrion had been given. It was a pretty cruel nickname but Tyrion had hardly gone out of his way to prove people wrong about him, as he instead mocked and insulted people in between his drinking and whoring. Not that Tytan could judge him too much on that, not without being a hypocrite that is.

As the two of them entered the keep Tytan noticed Cersei looking over at him. "Speaking of the little beast do you know where he is?"

Tytan rolled his eyes as he heard that, still not understanding just what his mother had against Tyrion. "Where do you think my uncle is? He's in a brothel of course."

"And how would you know that?" Cersei suddenly asked sharply, her eyes flinty as she looked at Tytan suspiciously.

Tytan could only shrug in response, ignoring Jamie's snort of amusement with practiced ease as he did so. "Experience of course."

Cersei cocked an eyebrow at that but said no more as she allowed Tytan to escort her into the keep, Catelyn Stark and a number of others following behind them. Leaving behind Tytan's siblings to mingle with the Stark children, or at least Myrcella and Tommen behind to mingle with Bran, Sansa and Arya, whilst Joffrey just went off and sulked about how he wouldn't be king.

 **( - )**

 **(In Tytan's Chambers)**

Letting out a sigh as he unbuckled his leather armour and took his mail hauberk off, Tytan rolled his shoulders marveling at the freedom and weightlessness he now felt. It was the problem he knew with wearing armour, the stronger the armour the heavier it was likely to be.

It was only a pity Tytan thought that he didn't retain the Curse of Achilles, after all having invulnerable skin in a world like this would be pretty damn useful. Unfortunately though the blessing that he had regained in Tartarus had not remained with him when he was reborn into Westeros, not like his Demigod powers had. Still the leather armour and chainmail he generally chose to wear was far more comfortable and far lighter than the suit of plate armour he wore in tournaments. He wasn't sure how Jamie and the Kingsguard wore heavy armour like that all the time.

Shrugging that thought off for now Tytan instead placed his armour on a wooden stand in the corner of his room, his lip curling slightly as he smelt the smell of stale sweat coming from the armour. Noting to himself as he turned back to his bed that he would need to get one of the Stark servants or royal servants to scrub his armour clean, Tytan then began to get dressed in the garb he was expected to wear for the welcoming feast this evening.

The garb consisting of a red leather jerkin that displayed a golden lion on the left breast and a golden stag on the right breast. It also included a pair of black leather breeches, fine leather boots and a large golden chain that was supposed to be worn around his neck. It was a bit ostentatious for his tastes but his mother had ordered the clothing made and Tytan had decided to humour her by wearing it.

Before Tytan could even begin to dress himself though, he was distracted by the sound of a light knock on his door.

Raising an eyebrow at this Tytan turned away from his fur covered double bed and looked over at the door in confusion. Two of his guardsmen were supposed to be guarding the door, and if anyone visited they were to enter the room and tell Tytan who they were. No one should be knocking like that.

"Come in." Tytan called out as he turned around wearing nothing at all as he reached over to where his bastard sword was propped against the bed. A four foot long blade of surprisingly unadorned castle forged steel, his blade having none of the baubles and gems hat one might expect from a Prince's weapon. Slowly curling his right hand around the worn grip as he began to draw on his demigod power, the air around his left hand beginning to distort as he drew on the moisture in the air. Tytan prepared to unsheathe his blade at a moment's notice as he kept his green gaze locked on the door.

As it turned out though his caution was unwarranted, because as the door opened the familiar figure of a beautiful redhead soon made themselves known as they entered the room wearing a hooded cloak. With Tytan being able to see the grinning face of Ubba, one of his personal guards grinning at him as the door closed behind the woman.

"Hello my Prince." The redhead said giving Tytan a curtesy as she looked up at him with smoldering eyes, a slight smirk playing across her mouth.

"Ros?" Tytan said in surprise. "You're here…"

"An astute observation, though I can go if you want me too?" The redhead replied coyly as she bit her upper lip her eyes wide and innocent as she gazed at Tytan.

"No." Tytan replied with a grin as he approached the girl, uncaring of the fact that he was naked. "I'm just surprised you were able to get into the Keep, I thought I would have to smuggle you in."

"I have some friends in the household." Ros replied with a shrug, her cloak falling to the floor as she did so and revealing the breeches and shirt she was wearing beneath. "Besides you invited me to the Keep."

And it was true as before he had left earlier that day he had asked whether she would stay with him during his time in Winterfell. Something she had happily accepted, even if she hadn't named a price he would need to pay for the pleasure. The redhead having instead left that to be decided on later as she just lived in the moment and enjoyed basking in the attention the royal gave her.

"That I did." Tytan said with a grin as he walked up to Ros, his left hand moving to her cheek as his right arm wrapped around her waist.

"It's only been a couple of hours and you missed me already. Maybe I should actually charge you this time?" Ros said with a smirk as she placed both her hands on Tytan's bare hips, feelings hardened manhood poking against her as she did so.

"And where would be the fun in that?" Tytan replied as he leaned in and kissed the beautiful whore, the feast forgotten for now as he felt the redhead wrap her arms around him, letting out a delighted squeak as he lifted her up and carried her to the bed.

 **( - )**

 **(In the Main Hall of Winterfell)**

Soon enough the welcoming feast for the royal procession was soon underway and the large, heavy wooden tables in Winterfell's great hall were straining under the sheer amount of food, wine and ale had had been brought out for all to eat and enjoy. With the great hall its self being at maximum capacity due to as many people as possible cramming in, both to enjoy the feast and see the rarely seen royals who had deigned to visit the North for the first time in decades.

The seating for this feast, as with all feasts was hierarchical, with the King, Queen and Lord and Lady Stark, as well as the Princes and Princess and Stark children all sitting at the large table on a raised dais at the head of the hall.

From there the tables were filled up by other nobles, seated according to their status and wealth. With the Karstarks and Umbers, some of the more powerful Noble Houses in the North sitting closest to the head table, whilst minor Nobles and other retainers were positioned further away.

The final tables at the far end of the hall, closest to the doors were filled up with Lannister and Stark guardsmen who had been invited to the feast along with whoever else might have turned up and been allowed in. Of course this hierarchical order only lasted so long into the feast.

As currently Robert was sat on a table halfway down the hall, already very drunk as he slung his arm around the waist of a giggling and red-faced serving girl, no doubt one he intended to bed later on in the night. Not that his wife Cersei looked that pleased about it, not because she was jealous though, but more because he was doing it in public where the other nobles and more importantly the Starks could see Robert's snubbing of her.

Currently Cersei, unlike her 'drunken fool of a husband' was still sitting at the head table alongside Lady Stark, the two of the engaging in polite, if slightly stilted conversation. Neither of them having much in common but making an effort for proprieties sake.

By this point in the night both Myrcella and Tommen, much to their irritation had been packed off to their beds. Cersei excepting no ifs or buts as she sent them packing the moment she saw Robert leave the head table, the Queen not wanting them to see what their 'father' was doing in his currently drunken state.

As for Joffrey he was still at the head table, talking with Sansa Stark and a companion of hers called Jeyne Poole. A slight smirk on his face as he told them stories of mighty hunts he had gone on and other achievements, most of which were likely made up. Not that the young Stark girl and her friend seemed to realise this as they instead lapped the lies up, somewhat overwhelmed with being given the undivided attention of a Prince, even if he wasn't the Crown Prince.

Off to the sides of the hall, watching the proceedings with a bored look were the Kingsguard, all of them in their gold coloured plate arms as they watched the King's antics, all except the two Kingsguard who were guarding the young Prince and Princess and Jamie who as usual was keeping an eye on Tytan. Who at the moment was sat at one of the tables halfway down the hall, a goblet of wine in one hand as he spoke with some of the Northerners.

"So Prince Tytan!?" Theon Greyjoy, a slightly pale boy with curly brown hair and somewhat protuberant eyes spoke up. A slight smirk on his face as he looked from his friend Robb Stark, whose father Ned Stark he was warding with, and instead looked over at the Crown Prince. Who at that moment was sitting across from them, a goblet of wine in one hand and a grin on his face.

"What's up?" Tytan asked as he looked over at the Greyjoy, not really that impressed with what he had seen of the arrogant boy so far. Though his impression might be somewhat tainted by the reputation his House had, a reputation mired in shame, treachery, piracy and pillaging.

"I heard… that you are one of the finest blades in Westeros…. Is that true?" Theon continued, a goblet of wine in his own hand as he made merry.

Tytan shrugged at that. "That's what some people say."

"And there I was thinking that that was what everyone said about you." Robb spoke up his cheeks slightly flushed from alcohol and a smirk on his face as he looked over at the Prince challengingly. "Or are those just stories?"

"Well you could always try your hand against me in the training yard tomorrow, if you're feeling lucky that is…" Tytan replied with a faint smile, not too concerned about the tipsy Stark's challenge.

Robb let out a laugh as he heard that before giving a nod. "You're on, I've never fought against a southerner before."

Tytan smiled at the boy's confidence, it was adorable, but unfortunately he would have to disabuse him of that on the training yard tomorrow. Not because he wanted to be harsh, but because Robb seemed decent enough and Tytan wanted to help him out. Overconfidence on the battlefield could lead to death, it was better to know where one truly stood and what they needed to work on now than when it was too late.

"Well you have that to look forward too." Tytan replied simply as he took another drink of wine, ignoring the sheer amount of noise as the rowdy guests got more and more drunk, a part of him already planning on taking his leave soon. After all he had had his fill of wine, food and personable company, now he wanted to once again delve into the pleasures of the flesh with Ros.

"Ha! I look forward to it! It's only a pity you can't face my brother Jon, he is probably one of the finest blades in Winterfell." Robb suddenly said, ignoring the slight snort from Theon as he instead took another gulp of his wine.

"Jon?" Tytan question, not being familiar with who Robb was talking about, though if Theon''s reaction was anything to go by he wasn't a universally popular man.

"Aye, my bastard brother, Jon Snow." Robb replied with a shrug, seemingly not caring about mentioning his illegitimate brother to the Crown Prince. "He wants to join the Night's Watch and has been training day in and day out for years to do so. Who knows he might even be able to take you on, or he would if he wasn't a bastard."

"I don't mind fighting a bastard, in the unlikely event that he does manage to land a hit... who knows I'll buy him a drink." Tytan replied, not giving a fuck about the stigma surrounding bastards, as he had been born a bastard when he went by the name of Percy Jackson. In fact as far as Tytan was concerned the whole stigma was based on the greed and paranoia of the nobles, all of whom feared getting positions usurped. "Though I am not sure why he wants to join the Night's Watch, nowadays it is nothing more than a cesspit of thieves, murderers and castrated rapists."

Theon and Robb nodded along as they heard that, the two of them having heard such comments before, mainly made by the Stark guardsmen and some of the nobles. Robb had even tried to tell Jon about these rumours before, but his half-brother was pretty prickly about it when it was mentioned.

"Wait a moment, why are all the rapists castrated? I thought the law was that they were to take the black and join the Night's Watch or have their manhood cut off?" Robb suddenly questioned with a frown.

"Yeah that used to be the law, I changed it though a few years ago. Nowadays rapists both take the black and get castrated or they die…" Tytan replied bluntly, him having never tolerated such acts before, and especially not now he had the power to bring about true justice.

"Brutal…" Theon replied with a wince, his hand covering his crotch at the thought.

Robb however just looked surprised, as he realised how much power the Crown Prince must wield if he was able to change laws like that. Especially since he said he had it changed and not the king.

Before any more could be said on that subject though, the group were distracted by the arrival of Arya Stark and her younger brother Bran. The two brown haired children looking quite excited as they ran over to where the three young men were sat.

Cocking an eyebrow at this, Tytan was surprised to see that the two of them were looking at him with excitement. Considering he had not spoken to either of them, or given them more than a cursory greeting when he first arrived, he was not sure why they seemed so excited to see him.

"Hey Arya, shouldn't you be in bed?" Robb spoke up as he looked over at his sister before looking over at where their mother, Catelyn, was engaged in conversation with the Queen. Neither of the two women paying much else attention, though he did notice Cersei sending a few speculative glances at where Sansa was sat.

Arya however didn't respond to her older brother as she instead focused on Tytan, her grey eyes twinkling with excitement as she looked up at the much taller man. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?" Tytan replied in amusement as he saw her excitement.

"That you were blessed by the gods, that you have magic powers?" Arya continued, her brothers and Theon also gaining interested looks as they focused on Tytan at this question.

"Sure." Tytan replied with a shrug, already guessing that she wanted to see him perform tricks, with him already being on the fence about whether or not he would oblige.

"Can you show me?" Arya asked bluntly, undeterred by the Prince's curt response.

Cocking an eyebrow as he saw the hopeful expression on her face, Tytan let out a faint sigh before begrudgingly deciding that he would humour her. He did so for his younger siblings, so he didn't see the harm in showing the young Starks a few tricks. "Why not."

With that said Tytan put his empty goblet of wine down on the table and then raised his hands in front of him, concentrating as he focused on gathering the moisture in the air. The air around his hands shimmering as an orb of water began to form above his palms.

Arya's eyes widened as she saw this, the other's expressions mirroring her own as they saw evidence of Tytan's power.

Smirking slightly as he saw her reaction along with the others, Tytan began to mold the water. The orb soon taking the shape of a wolf, grown up versions of the small wolf pups each of the Stark children seemed to have. Or at least he assumed they were wolves, they could just be dogs. Either way in Tytan's hands a small six inch tall wolf took shape, the watery lupine leaping out of Tytan's hands before running up to Arya, treating the air like solid ground as Tytan controlled it. His raw power might have been diminished, but his control was as refined as ever.

Letting out a giggle as she felt the wolf land in her cupped hands, Arya then looked up at the smiling Tytan in awe. His little demonstration having also garnered the attention of a couple of others in the hall. With a number of others now looking at him in surprise, awe and in a few cases fear.

"Well that should last for a couple of hours if you're careful." Tytan said as with a flick of his fingers he turned the watery wolf into an ice sculpture. Arya letting out a small yelp as she felt the ice sculpture take form in her hands. The sudden coldness taking her by surprise. "Now I think I'll call it a night here, I've ot a spar early in the morning after all and a hunt in the early afternoon."

Not that this was his true reason for leaving, no that was because he didn't fancy being gawked at for the rest of the evening, and also because he knew he would have a horny Ros waiting for him in his chambers. Still though many of those around accepted it at face value, though a few of them did look a bit disappointed that he wouldn't be performing any more tricks for them.

Seeing the put out expression on Arya's face, Tytan proceeded to ruffle her hair as he got up. Sending both Robb and Theon a nod of acknowledgement as he did so. "Don't worry Arya, I'll be around tomorrow, after all I have to beat down your older brother in the training yard later. Who knows if you get up early enough you can probably watch."

Arya regained her look of excitement as she heard that. Even as Robb let out a snort of amusement.

"Either way I'm off, have a good rest of the evening." Tytan continued as he got to his feet, noticing as he did that a number of other people had already left. Giving the Stark children another nod he then began to head for the main doors, Jamie moving from where he had been standing guard a few metres away and following behind his nephew as they left the hall.

"Been having fun?" Jamie asked dryly as he looked at the dark haired man, having seen Tytan's little performance earlier.

"What can I say, it was a bit of fun." Tytan replied nonchalantly

Jamie rolled his eyes at his nephew's nonchalance but didn't comment further as the two of them left the warmth of the great hall and were instead hit by a wall of cold and icy wind, courtesy of the North's less than desirable climate.

As the two of them moved through Winterfell, heading for the tower where Tytan had his quarters. The Prince noticed out of the corner of his eyes the dark haired boy he had noticed before in the courtyard, Jon Snow he presumed, who seemed to currently be talking to Tyrion of all people. For a moment as he saw them Tytan was tempted to approach them and hear what they were talking about, maybe even get a better picture of what the bastard of Winterfell was like.

However as a chill wind suddenly hit him, he decided otherwise. After all he would likely meet the other boy tomorrow, maybe even in a spar, and from experience Tytan found one of the best way to see what a person was really like, was to see what they were like in a fight.

Plus it was damn cold out here and he had a beautiful redhead waiting for him in his chambers, and he would much rather have an enjoyable night with Ros then standing out in the cold talking to Tyrion and Jon Snow. After all it was likely just Tyrion half mocking and half helping someone he saw as 'undesirable' and 'unwanted' as he saw himself.

So yeah Tytan would much prefer a warm bed and a good shag over getting involved in some depressing, depreciating conversation with his dwarf uncle and the bastard of Winterfell.

 **( - )**

 **AN: So what did you all think I hope you enjoyed it and leave a review?**

 **Also I just want to answer a few general questions I have been asked. The first being that this is not a smut fic, I have never written a 'lemon' before and won't be trying my hand at it any time soon. Also this is not going to be a harem story. The main reasons for this is because there a very few writers are good enough to make a good harem fic, with more often than not the fiction getting ruined and becoming horribly cringey. There are a few out there that are good enough to do this and can make do so with good humour, deep development and powerful emotion. Unfortunatly I don't think I am good enough to do that, and so won't be doing it.**

 **So yeah I am sorry if that disappoints people but I am afraid that is just how it is. On another note I have been asked about changes to canon, to that I will say Percy's presence in this world fundamentally changes many canon events. However there are some events that won't change, either because Tytan isn't involved in them, or because he doesn't know about them happening. As the story progresses though these will becoming more and more prevalent until later until the canon events are completely replaced with new things. A domino effect so to speak.**

 **Other than that I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Greed720.**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: So here is the next chapter to the story, I hope you all enjoy it. I have to say I appreciate all the support I have received so far, this story is now fourth ranked in the PJ/GoT crossover section.**

 **So other than that I hope you all enjoy the chapter.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones)**

 **( - )**

 **(Last Time)**

 _As the two of them moved through Winterfell, heading for the tower where Tytan had his quarters. The Prince noticed out of the corner of his eyes the dark haired boy he had noticed before in the courtyard, Jon Snow he presumed, who seemed to currently be talking to Tyrion of all people. For a moment as he saw them Tytan was tempted to approach them and hear what they were talking about, maybe even get a better picture of what the bastard of Winterfell was like._

 _However as a chill wind suddenly hit him, he decided otherwise. After all he would likely meet the other boy tomorrow, maybe even in a spar, and from experience Tytan found one of the best way to see what a person was really like, was to see what they were like in a fight._

 _Plus it was damn cold out here and he had a beautiful redhead waiting for him in his chambers, and he would much rather have an enjoyable night with Ros then standing out in the cold talking to Tyrion and Jon Snow. After all it was likely just Tyrion half mocking and half helping someone he saw as 'undesirable' and 'unwanted' as he saw himself._

 _So yeah Tytan would much prefer a warm bed and a good shag over getting involved in some depressing, depreciating conversation with his dwarf uncle and the bastard of Winterfell._

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 5**

 **( - )**

 **(With Tytan)**

It was relatively early the next morning that Tytan Baratheon found himself walking through the frigid halls of Winterfell, feeling both well rested and clear headed despite having drunk a lot of the wine at the welcoming feast the night before and having engaged in some lascivious activities with Ros. Of course this was due to his naturally enhanced physical abilities, courtesy of being/ having been a Demigod.

The reason for these latent abilities was because Demigods by their very nature were born to be warriors and heroes, which meant that even the weakest of Demigods was stronger, faster and more durable than an average human.

Tytan himself though, as Demigods went was pretty exceptional, because as a child of Poseidon, one of the three most powerful Gods in the Greco-Roman Pantheon, he was a cut above the rest. Meaning that when it came to sheer physical abilities it was doubtful there was any mortal man in Westeros or even Essos that could match him one on one. Even the Mountain, Ser Gregor Clegane, a man vaunted for his incredible strength and vast size was likely not as strong as Tytan. Despite the man like having close to two feet of height on the young Prince, not that Tytan had ever been able to put this to the test as the man was currently in the Night's Watch, minus his balls.

Tytan having given the order himself for the Mountain and his men to be brought to court and tried for their sins, even if his doing so had pissed off Tywin Lannister, his grandfather and the Warden of the West and the holder of the Mountain's leash. Not that the man could do anything, both because Tytan was his family and because he knew that the good will of the Crown Prince was worth more to him than a mad dog like the Mountain, especially if saving Clegane earned him the enmity of the future King, a man who by all accounts was blessed by the gods.

Of course to fuel these increased physical abilities Tytan needed energy, which meant that his metabolism was just as enhanced as the rest of him. Which was actually a good thing when it came to drinking, as it meant that he could drink with the best of them, as the sheer amount he needed to drink to get well and truly trashed was almost double that of a normal man. However it also meant that by the time he woke up in the morning his body had already metabolized the alcohol and his connection to water meant he was never dehydrated, as if he ever did get thirsty his skin naturally absorbed the moisture around him.

All of which was certainly useful at staving off hangovers, especially when after a raucous night of celebration and excessive drinking, Tytan found himself being rudely awakened by a servant in the late morning so that he could take part in the spar that he had apparently promised Robb Stark last night. Which at the time might have seemed like a good idea, but early in the morning was something he wished he could avoid so he could go back to bed where it was warm and cozy, and where he had been spooning a beautiful and fiery redhead.

Unfortunately though a promise was a promise, which is why he was currently walking through the corridors of Winterfell, heading for the training yard. The Crown Prince currently wearing his freshly scoured mail hauberk and leather armour, a set of castle forged steel bracers on his forearms, leather gloves on his hands and a pair of leather boots with iron strips running down the sides, useful little additions that protected his ankles from people trying to sweep his legs with blades in the melee.

Belted around Tytan's waist was his sheathed bastard sword, a four foot long blade with a wide tang, unadorned ivory coloured cross guard, heavy pommel and a tapered point. A brutal weapon, which was made for the simple task of killing. Whether this was by slashing with the side of the blades, impaling with the point of the blade or spiked cross guard or even bludgeoning with the flat of the blade and pommel. A weapon that was made for killing, not for fancy or elegant swordplay.

The blade itself was simple castle forged steel, the hilt and crossguard however was crafted from dragon bone. Dragon bone harvested from the skulls of the old Targaryen dragons, the ones that had once been used to decorate the walls of the throne room. But had since been relegated to the castle dungeons to gather dust, after Robert's rebellion, the King not wanting any tainted reminder of the Targeryen's around him. Balerion the Dread, that was the name of that dragon whose skill Tytan had had shattered, and whose bones he now used for his sword hilt, shield and plate armour, the bones having been used during the forging to accentuate his plate armours defensive capabilities.

On Tytan's other hip, his left one, he had a dagger sheathed to it. This one being somewhat fancier than his sword, with this blade being made of Valeryian Steel, a rare and indestructible metal that knew one knew the secrets to making anymore. The dagger having been a nameday present from Robert, who likely just found it in the Crown's treasury and thought, hey why not.

Letting out a slight sigh as he felt the cold wind once again hit him, Tytan didn't say a word as he continued on through Winterfell, his uncle Jamie walking alongside him as a guard, the blonde haired man wearing his full golden plate armour and white cloak. As he continued on Tytan couldn't help regretting his offer the night before, as a part of him wanted to be back in his bedchamber, sheltered from the cold as he instead slept with Ros.

Still he had made a promise, and Tytan was always true to his word.

Walking outside Tytan barely made it a few steps before a loud voice hailed him. The source of the voice being a corpulent old man, with a gruff face, bear like arms and a large fur cloak.

"Prince Tytan." Rodrik Cassel, the Winterfell Master-at-Arms called out as he saw the armoured and well rested looking Pence exit the keep, taking note of his garb and weaponry as he did so. "If you are here to train, then the training yard is ready for a spar."

Tytan nodded as he heard that, giving the man an absentminded wave as he instead looked around the training yard. Which as he looked around he could see consisted of little more than a square of clear earth, with a few racks around the outside for armour and weapons. As he did look around he noticed that both Robb and the Stark's friend Theon, along with Robb's bastard brother Jon were all talking at one side of the yard, a couple of Stark guardsmen with them as they chatted, all of them wearing armour of some form or another, with both Robb and Theon looking capable if a little pale and tired from the revelries of the night before.

Looking over to the other side of the yard, Tytan could see his younger brother Joffrey talking with his personal guard, Sandor Clegane, and a few Lannister men-at-arms. From the mocking expressions on their faces and the slight sneers they were throwing at their surroundings, Tytan could easily tell that his brother and his little group were probably insulting either the Starks or the North, or more likely both.

Rolling his eyes at the idiotic antics of his brother, Tytan instead approached Robb Stark a slight smirk passing across his face.

"Young Stark, you're looking well!" Tytan said loudly, attracting Robb's attention, the Heir of Winterfell wincing at the loudness of Tytan's comment before sending him a wane smile.

"Tytan, you made it." Robb said as he pushed himself up.

"Well I said I would, I just thought I would give you some more time to recover. You were looking pretty merry the other night." Tytan replied easily as he clapped Robb on the shoulder before giving Theon and Jon a nod, something the both of them returned, even if the bastard's greeting was a bit stiff and awkward.

Robb grimaced as he heard that. "Yeah, drank a bit too much. Am surprised you're not in the same condition, I mean you drank as much if not more than me."

"Well obviously I handle my wine better then you." Tytan replied with a good natured chuckle.

"Piss off." Robb replied with a laugh oh his own, a slight smile on his face.

"How about you then Greyjoy, you in as bad a condition as your friend?" Tytan asked, deciding to extend the olive branch to Theon. After all his family might be shit, but that didn't mean he was.

"No." Theon replied brusquely, a slightly sour expression on his face as he scowled around the yard.

Tytan cocked an eyebrow as he heard that, before looking over to Robb, who upon hearing Theon's tone had grimaced.

"Sorry about Theon, he's in a bit of a bad mood. Last night he went to the brothel and tried to buy a night with his favourite whore, only to be told she wasn't taking anymore clients." Robb replied, as he tried to explain the actions of his frustrated friend to the Crown Prince, hoping that the other man wouldn't take offence..

"You've got blue balls eh?" Tytan asked in amusement as he saw Theon trying to hide the withering look he sent his way. "That sounds shit, so why didn't she want to see you?"

"Apparently Ros's besotted with some stuck-up ponce. Bitch probably caught the scent of his gold and was on it like a dog in heat!" Theon replied gruffly, an unpleasant look passing across his face.

Hearing what the boy said Tytan had to hold himself back from knocking the Greyjoy on his arse, the Prince not at all appreciating the comments the Greyjoy was making about Ros, even if Tytan had only known her a couple of days. Still they were about to spar, so Tytan might be a bit rougher on Theon because of that comment. "Well you know what they say, plenty more fish in the sea?"

As they heard the expression both Theon and Robb looked at Tytan in confusion. Before they could ask about it though, Tytan had instead looked over at Jon. The shorter boy still looking pretty miserable as he glanced up and saw the Crown Prince looking at him.

"So you're Jon Snow then, the bastard of Winterfell?" Tytan asked curiously, not missing the way Jon's scowl deepened at his words. Obviously being a little thin skinned and not liking being called a bastard, even if he was a bastard.

"Aye, and you're the Crown Prince." Jon replied back slightly coldly, the scowl not leaving his face as he looked the Prince up and down, noting the quality of his mail and weaponry.

"That I am." Tytan acknowledged, growing bored of the bastards scowling, after all self-pity was something Tytan had no time for. "So I hear you're a damn good fighter?"

"I do alright, I was trained from a young age." Jon replied, his tone becoming somewhat defensive as he heard the Prince's words, as if he thought Tytan would start mocking him.

"Well we'll need to put that to the test today then. I did after all tell Robb that I would buy a drink for any man able to land a blow on me, bastards included." Tytan said cheerily as he glanced over at Robb.

"You would fight a bastard?" Jon replied incredulously.

"I did just say I would, didn't I? Tytan replied with a shrug as he saw that his brother Joffrey had stopped his laughing as he heard that and instead was looking over at Tytan in disapproval, the younger boy obviously not thinking much of Tytan's decision, not that Tytan gave a damn. "After all on the field of battle it's more likely I will fight some bastard solider than some highborn, they do out number us somewhat after all…."

Jon grunted as he heard that, giving Tytan a short nod, acknowledging he had a point.

Holding back a sigh at the less than personable bastard's reactions, Tytan instead looked over at his uncle. A grin crossing his face as he saw his uncle was looking a bit tired, the man lacking in his usual dry humour as he instead just went through the motions. "What about you Jamie, fancy joining us? It's been a while since you and I had a chance to spar."

"I think I'll give it a pass for now." Jamie replied dryly as he moved so he was standing by a nearby wall, his plate armour clanking slightly and his white cloak dragging in the mud.

"Suit yourself." Tytan replied with a shrug.

"Alright then, who'll go first?" Ser Rodrik spoke up as he approached the group, eyeing all of their weapons and armour to make sure it was all appropriate for the field, his gaze lingering on the Prince's weapons for a moment as he noticed that both blades were sharpened steel. "Though my Prince if you are to fight I would request that you use training blades, I don't want you boys cutting each other to strips after all."

Tytan shrugged as he heard that before taking of his belt and attached swords and handing them over to Jamie, not to bothered about using the blunter but slightly heavier training blades. After all the idea wasn't to cut each other to pieces, and although he was confident in his own abilities he knew that mistakes could happen, and an inexperienced swordsman like Robb could hurt himself against an experienced swordsman like Tytan if he got overeager.

Nodding along, both Robb and Tytan walked into the centre of the ring. The two of them taking up training swords from the racks around the periphery of the training yard, before grabbing simple iron rimmed shields as well. Both Robb and Tytan getting ready as they faced off in the centre of the training yard. Robb looking very tense as he held his shield out in front of him, his blade held at the ready. Whilst Tytan looked more relaxed, his shield held at his side, as he absentmindedly took a few swings with the training sword, getting used to the increased weight and decreased length of the blade when compared to his own sword.

"When you're both ready begin, when I tell you to stop though, you both stop." Rodrik spoke up again, a slight frown on his face as he realised that these two men were both very important, one of them being the future King whilst the other was the future Warden of the North, which meant that if anything bad happened then it would be his head that rolled.

"You got it." Tytan said airily as he gripped his sword, his eyes sharpening as he looked over at the tense Robb. "You ready then Stark?"

"When you are Baratheon." Robb replied his eyes narrowed a she began to cautiously approached Tytan, his blue eyes fixed on the tip of Tytan's blade, an uneasy feeling rising up in him as he saw the Prince's seemingly relaxed stance.

Seeing this Tytan rushed forward sweeping Robb's blade to one side with his own before unleashing a kick at Robb's shield, the force of the blow making Robb stagger backwards his blade almost flying out of his hands as he fought to keep his feet.

Following this up Tytan slashed his sword at Robb forcing the Start to raise his shield to block it, only for Tytan to then ram his own shield into the Stark and send him stumbling backwards again, this time the Stark landing on his arse. Robb having to struggle to get up quickly as he expected the Prince to be on him in a moment, only for Tytan to not take the advantage.

"Well at least you can block." Tytan said teasingly as he backed off and allowed Robb time to recover, knowing as he did that if he had kept on with the attack he could have finished the spar, however that wasn't very fun.

Rolling his shoulder Robb regathered himself, taking a low position as he tried to keep his distance from the casually standing Tytan. His mind racing as he tried to figure out a way to fight Tytan, knowing as he did that the Prince wasn't just a more experienced fighter than Robb, he was also far more skilled. "You don't make it easy."

"Well where would the fun in that be?" Tytan asked with a quick smile, before he lunged forward, his blade piercing through the air.

Robb though was quicker on the mark this time, as he threw his shield out, parrying Tytan's attack, before with a shout he tried to strike the Crown Prince. Not that this caught Tytan unawares as with barely a single movement his blade deflected Robb's strike with a flick of his wrist, his eyes absentmindedly noting Robb's form and predicting his movements before he proceeded to parry half a dozen more of Robb's slashes and stabs, Tytan's blade work quick and efficient, leaving no gaps in his defense.

After about a minute of this Tytan decided to take the offensive this time, as without warning he swung his sword out at Robb, his blows precisely aimed as he kept flicking and deflect Robb's blade away, leaving his chest open. With Robb being forced completely on the defensive as he sheltered behind his shield, weathering the brunt of Tytan's attacks. His arms beginning to ache and his breath getting shorter.

Seeing this Tytan rammed his shield forwards again, this time hitting the face of Robb's shield with his own, the force of the blow knocking Robb back and breaking his low stance. Unlike the last time Tytan did this though, this time he capitalized on the blow, as faster than most would think possible he darted forwards, his blade finding a gap in the staggering Robb's defense as it struck him in the shoulder, in the gap between Robb's breastplate and pauldron. Following this up Tytan lashed out with his shield, the blow this time knocking Robb off his feet and onto his arse.

"And that'll do!" Rodrik Cassel shouted loudly as he looked between the two young men.

As the spar ended the people around the training yard began to politely clap, a few of the Baratheon and Lannister guardsmen letting out cheers as their famous Prince defeated the Heir of the North. Not that many of those present had expected any different, after all the Crown Prince's reputation as a fighter was well known even up in the North.

"Good fight Robb." Tytan said as he stabbed his training sword into the ground and instead helped pull Robb to his feet. The young Stark absentmindedly rubbing his shoulder, a dull ache beginning to form, from where the Prince had landed his blow. The training sword being too blunt to breach the mail, had still probably left a bit of a bruise.

"Yeah you too. Have to say you are as good as they say, I barely even had a chance there." Robb replied as he turned and picked up his sword, giving Tytan a slight grin as he acknowledged the better fighter.

"Don't be too downhearted, there are very few fights that last longer than a couple of minutes. Most fights on the battlefield are decided after a couple of blows, or are interrupted by the melee of combat." Tytan replied, sensing Robb might be a bit disappointed with the fight. Speaking the truth as he knew that drawn out fights very rarely happened, as a single mistake no matter how skilled someone was could leave enough of an opening that could end the fight.

"I suppose." Robb grunted as he looked up at Tytan. "Though now you have to face off with Jon, and he might be a match for you."

"I welcome the challenge." Tytan smiled wryly at that, even as he saw a scowling Jon picking up a training blade and a shield. His expression very reminiscent of Ned Starks as he walked onto the training yard, giving Tytan a flat look as he did so.

Standing opposite each other, Tytan continued to maintain his relaxed stance, his gaze shifting from Jon as he instead look around the yard. Noting as he did the excited looks on Theon and Robb's faces, as well as the bored look on Jamie, clearly his uncle thought he had better things to do. Then again he was not accompanying Tytan on the hunt with his father and Ned Stark this afternoon, so he could deal with it.

On the opposite side of the yard he could see the sneering face of Joffrey, his brother looking somewhat eager as he watched the goings on. Not that Tytan was under any illusion that Joffrey was supporting him, no the little shit probably either wanted to watch Tytan lose, or more likely to die in an accident so the younger brother could be King. Like that would ever happen.

Pulling his gaze from his scheming younger brother, Tytan instead looked over at the bastard of Winterfell, inspecting his stance, the way he held his sword and the way his gaze didn't just lock on Tytan's blade but on his footwork as well. The boy's technique looked better than his half-brothers, but whether it would last in a fight was debatable. Often times as a fight progressed people got more and more desperate, as too di their style and technique.

For a moment the two were silent as they weighed each other up, the silence however only lasted for a few moment though before Jon snow made the first move. The young bastard darting forwards as he slashed at Tytan with a shout, not putting his all into the blow as he kept his shield raised in case of a counterattack. Jon having deduced that Tytan wasn't going to make the first move, but knowing the Prince was likely to skilled to be taken out by a single rush.

With a flick of his wrist Tytan batted the blade away before taking a step forward and slamming his shield into Jon, sending him staggering back with incredible ease and strength, almost knocking Jon off his feet. Making a mockery of the bastard's preparations as he instead scrambled to remain standing.

Frowning Tytan then motioned for Jon to try again a bit disappointed with the lack luster first attempt, especially considering how much Robb had hyped up Jon's skills. "Come on young bastard don't be afraid to hit me, hell I encourage it, if you manage to land a blow I will give you fifty gold dragons!"

The people around the training yard began to murmur at that, some of them acting quite surprised that the Crown Prince would actually encourage some bastard born boy to strike him. Over to one side Joffrey's lip curled up as he saw the inappropriateness of Tytan's actions, knowing as he did that he would have any man who dared to strike him flogged, he certainly wouldn't reward them. Which in Joffrey's mind was yet another reason why Tytan would be ill-suited to the throne.

As for Jon his eyes widened slightly, before he grit his teeth and held his sword tighter, knowing as he did that he had already been trying to hit the Prince, and coming to the conclusion from past experiences that the man was likely now mocking him.

"Come on young Snow, give us a good fight, your brother told me last night that you're one of the best blades in Winterfell!" Tytan tried to encourage, hoping to get the boy to fight him probably, after all only Jamie and Ser Barristan Selmy were able to give him a proper fight, and fighting the same people over and over got stale and boring. He had even tried fighting multiple opponents at once, but found that the lack of teamwork and the difference in skill was not enough to give him a true challenge.

Letting out a shout Jon rushed Tytan again, the Crown Prince throwing aside his iron rimmed shield as he instead just used his training sword, Tytan wielding the blade with either one hand or two depending on the situation. Hoping that this might make the fight a little more interesting.

Within moments the two met in combat, Tytan having to play a lot more tactical game now he didn't have a shield. The two of them beginning to get faster Jon not even getting close to striking the Prince, only just managing to keep up through liberal use of his shield. The Prince changing up his style as he delivered quick one handed strikes, followed by heavy two handed blows, the suddenness of the change keeping Jon on edge and giving the bastard a few bruises as he wasn't able to avoid all of the strikes.

As the fight progressed Jon began to get frustrated, having never found himself outclassed like this before. Which is why with a yell he rushed the Prince and tried to ram his shield into him so he could stagger Tytan and give himself an opening, Jon's blade held low and ready so he could ram it forwards past his shield when he got the opportunity.

"You're trying too hard Jon. Your moves are getting more desperate!" Tytan said irritably as he saw what Jon was doing, before with a grunt he allowed Jon to rush him, moving so he avoided Jon's jabbing blade by going round the other side of his shield so he was now behind him.

Twisting round Jon went for another slash, only for Tytan to predict it as he stepped forward and locked his blade with Jon's, the Prince's strength coming into play as with a twist of his wrist he disarmed Jon his blade flying a few feet away, before in a simple maneuver he stuck his right leg behind both of Jon's and rammed him with his shoulder knocking the bastard onto his arse.

"And that's the match!" Rodrik Cassel shouted out, making his present known as he walked into the yard, placing a firm hand on Jon's shoulder as he pushed himself back to his feet. "Well fought my Prince."

"Thanks." Tytan replied easily as he lowered his sword, giving Rodrik a friendly smile as he did so before looking over at Jon. "You fought well to Jon!"

Jon nodded abruptly at that, his face bathed in sweat and his cheeks flushed. "My Prince."

Giving another nod Tytan then looked around the yard, noting that a small crowd had built up to watch, including young Arya Stark who was looking down at the yard form a wooden balcony attached to the keep, an excited expression on her face, her gaze never leaving Tytan. The girl not sure what impressed her more his skill with a blade or his ability to control water.

"Right so who's next?" Tytan said with a grin as he looked around the yard.

 **( - )**

It was later that day after another hour or so of sparring, followed by a quick top off wash that Tytan, still in his mail and leather armour, soon found himself mounted on a horse in the courtyard of Winterfell. Watching alongside, the King and Ned Stark as a number of guardsmen and servants went about the preparations for a midafternoon hunt, one the King had insisted on having. Tytan being present at his father's insistence, the fat man often saying that hunting was one of the true ways a man can prove that he is a man.

Currently Tytan was sat in his saddle a bored look on his face as he watched the goings on, his ever-present shadow Jamie not here at the moment as he had instead been assigned elsewhere by orders of the Queen. As if Tytan couldn't guess what that meant, not that he would begrudge his uncle and his mother their moment of happiness. Still it did mean he lost his partner in crime for the rest of the day and instead had to deal with his father's company alone and without a buffer.

"You as good with a spear as you used to be?" Robert said loudly as he looked over to Ned Stark a large grin present on his face, the fat man clearly getting excited for the blood sport to come.

"No… but I'm still better than you." Ned replied with a chuckle, his stoic expression breaking into a slight smile, one of the first signs of genuine emotion Tytan had seen on the Stark's face.

"I know what I'm putting you through. Thank you for saying yes. I only asked because I need you. You're a loyal friend, you hear me? A loyal friend. One of the last I've got." Robert said as he reached over and clapped Ned on the shoulder, gripping it to emphasis his point.

Tytan inferring from this that the King had offered Ned the position of Hand, not that the offer was an optional one.

"I hope I serve you well." Ned said with a nod of his head, before he glanced over at Tytan.

"You will. And I'll make sure you don't look so fucking grim all the time!" Robert said as he chuckled, digging his heels into the flanks of his horse as he began to trot forwards.

"And there goes my father, the King…." Tytan said dryly from where he was next to Ned, getting the Northern Lord's attention as he did so.

"Robert's a good man." Ned replied as he looked over at Tytan curiously.

"I've heard he was a good warrior, and a decent enough commander." Tytan agreed with a nod, not mentioning what the man was like as a father, a person or a King. "So I hear you're coming south with us."

"The King has offered me the position of Hand." Ned replied with a nod of his head, not acknowledging to Tytan whether or not he had accepted the King's offer.

"Well a piece of advice then." Tytan said as he looked over at Ned, still not particularly liking him due to his treatment of his Tytan's uncle Jamie, and the way his words had damaged the man's reputation and honour. "King's Landing isn't like the North, the people there… they talk in half-truths and false promises."

"And what do you mean by that?" Ned asked as he turned in his horse and stared at the Prince.

"Just that you should be careful whilst in King's Landing." Tytan replied simply as he urged his horse onwards, ignoring the equines bitching as it started forwards heading for the rest of the party. Tytan seeing no more point in helping Ned Stark, after all he didn't like the man and owed him no favours, with the advice he had given being for his families benefit, after all Robb and Arya, the two Starks he sort of liked, would be pretty upset if their father got himself killed.

Seeing this Ned Stark scowled slightly, somewhat confused about just what the Prince was saying but acknowledging it all the same.

 **( - )**

 **(Sometime Later with Bran Stark)**

Sometime after the King's party had headed out on their hunt, Bran Stark had gotten back to doing what he loved most, fearlessly climbing up and down the towers and walls of Winterfell. Reveling in the excitement he felt from being up so high.

Currently he was climbing up the old abandoned tower, an unused tower that had fallen into disrepair more than a decade ago. His hands and feet moving with practiced ease as he found the familiar handholds, quickly ascending the tower and reaching the top, his attention soon being drawn to the sound of a woman's moaning, which could be heard coming from one of the windows.

Climbing over to the window Bran looked in only to rear back in shock at what he saw inside. Jamie Lannister and his twin sister, the Queen Cersei Baratheon were coupling together, like a married man and a woman would.

The two of them fiercely and vigorously making love, oblivious to all else. Or at least they were until Jamie pulled his sister into his chest as he kissed her neck, putting Cersei in the perfect positon to see Bran staring at them through the window.

Which inevitably led to her telling Jamie, who within moments was across to the window and holding Bran tightly. Stopping him from trying to climb down and escape, his shirt bunched up in Jamie's fist as the larger man held him tight.

"Are you completely mad?" Jamie asked his tone soft and calm, showing none of the panic one would usually expect.

"He saw us." Cersei said in a panicked state, trying to pull up her dress and give herself some semblance of modesty as she realised the Stark boy had seen everything.

"Quite the little climber aren't you." Jamie continued to ask, his tone soft and calm as he looked curiously and almost sadly at the young boy. "How old are you?"

"Ten." Bran stammered out nervously, knowing as he did that he had just stumbled upon something very dangerous, a sense of foreboding rising up within him.

"Ten." Jamie said his tone definitely sad, though still firm with resolve as he looked over at Cersei. "The things I do for love." Jamie continued before he pushed Bran out the window causing him to fall to the ground below. The young boy not even being able to let out a cry of shock as he plummeted to the hard and unforgiving ground, his head and limbs striking the side of the stone tower as he fell.

 **( - )**

 **AN: So that is the chapter, I hope you all enjoyed it?**

 **Now I know some people may be surprised that Bran still fell from the tower, but in my opinion I see so many stories where the MC saves Bran from falling, but the reasons are all so… insubstantial and come down to simply because the author wanted them to. For me Percy/Tytan hasn't had much interaction with Bran so doesn't know about his climbing, on top of which he has no real connection with him. On top of which if the King went on a hunt it was likely that both his heir and Ned's would be expected to come. Hence why Tytan wouldn't happen to be hanging around the bottom of a tower. As for why Jamie and Cersei were still together, that is because Robert was away and they would take this chance. Tytan's presence wouldn't have changed that.**

 **Now as for pairings, I have decided to leave final parings for now as I want to develop the story more and let it evolve naturally not force it so it follows a pairing that makes sense now but might not as the story develops. That being said flings often happen and I find Ros an underused and interesting character.**

 **Other than that though I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and leave a review. On top of which I am still open to recommended Game of Thrones stories.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Greed720.**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: So here is the next chapter I hope you all enjoy reading it. I'm sorry this update is a little late but I have been looking into my other stories as well, because I don't want to leave any of the other ones to long without an update. Still I recently read a Game of Thrones crossover that kind of annoyed me, not because it was badly written. In fact it had good ideas and was well written, instead I was more annoyed with the direction the author decided to take it. However that is of course the author's right. That being said it kind of inspired me to finish this chapter, plus I now one way in which I don't want this story to go.**

 **However due to this I decided to work on my own Game of Thrones crossover and get this chapter out.**

 **Hope you enjoy it and leave a review.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones.**

 **( - )**

 **(Last Time)**

 _"Are you completely mad?" Jamie asked his tone soft and calm, showing none of the panic one would usually expect._

 _"He saw us." Cersei said in a panicked state, trying to pull up her dress and give herself some semblance of modesty as she realised the Stark boy had seen everything._

 _"Quite the little climber aren't you." Jamie continued to ask, his tone soft and calm as he looked curiously and almost sadly at the young boy. "How old are you?"_

 _"Ten." Bran stammered out nervously, knowing as he did that he had just stumbled upon something very dangerous, a sense of foreboding rising up within him._

 _"Ten." Jamie said his tone definitely sad, though still firm with resolve as he looked over at Cersei. "The things I do for love." Jamie continued before he pushed Bran out the window causing him to fall to the ground below. The young boy not even being able to let out a cry of shock as he plummeted to the hard and unforgiving ground, his head and limbs striking the side of the stone tower as he fell._

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 6**

 **( - )**

 **(Winterfell)**

Tytan and the rest of the King's hunting party had just returned to Winterfell, their hunt having been cut short after Lord Stark had received an urgent raven from the keep. It hadn't taken Tytan long to come to the conclusion that the raven carried with it dire news. As after a swift muttered conversation with the King, Ned had broken away from the hunting party with his son Robb, his ward Theon and a half dozen of his guardsmen, all of whom had ridden back to Winterfell at as fast a pace as they could.

It had not been that long after that that Robert had called the rest of the hunt off, the fat man's mood having been soured by whatever had pulled his friend away, which when combined with the chill winds and the lack of game so far, had been enough to put even the boisterous Robert Baratheon off. Which for Tytan was a relief as it now meant that he would not have to hear any more of his father's exaggerated war/whore stories. Though that relief was somewhat dampened when, after curiousity having gotten the best of him, he had moved so he was riding alongside his father so that he could ask about what the raven had said. Tytan's innate curiousity having gotten the best of him.

Apparently according to his father, Brandon Stark, Ned's ten year old son had been pratting around climbing up some partially ruined tower, and had ended up falling some twenty odd feet to the ground and was now crippled and in a coma.

Now Tytan couldn't say he really knew a thing about the boy, as he had only met him once or twice, but even so it would be a shame if the lad died. Especially since he had only just begun living. Either way the boy had fallen, and was now in a coma, his legs mangled and his face swollen from where his head had struck the stone tower on the way down. Which was no doubt why Ned had been in such a hurry, after all with injuries such as those the boy was likely on the edge of death.

As Tytan's horse trotted into the courtyard, Crown Prince swung himself out of the saddle before handing the reins of his horse to a waiting stable boy. Tytan offering a muttered thanks, as he barely glanced at the stable boy. His attention instead on Robb Stark, who at that moment was to one side of the courtyard, a training sword in his hand as he widely swung at a wooden training dummy. Any technique he possessed forgotten as he just hacked and slashed at it, his anger and grief plain for all to see.

Pulling off his leather riding gloves, Tytan approached the other man. Announcing himself as he did so, just in case the clearly angry and frustrated Heir lashed out at the approaching Prince by accident.

"Robb?" Tytan said calmly, getting the other man's attention.

Twisting around Robb glared at Tytan, not really angry at the Prince, but just frustrated by the events that were completely out of his control, and at how useless he currently felt as he stood out here waiting, and hoping for the best whilst his younger brother hovered between life and death.

"I heard about Bran, and you have my condolences. If there's anything I can do, just ask." Tytan said, as he dismissed Robb's glare with ease. After all throughout his time as a Demigod, he had known the pain and anguish of losing a loved ones. Just as he knew of the frustration that came with being able to do nothing about it.

"Grab a sword!" Robb said bluntly as he walked to a nearby weapons rack and grabbed a training sword, before he twisted around and threw it to Tytan.

Catching the sword by its handle, Tytan twirled the blade a few times testing its weight and balance automatically as he did so, before he looked over at Robb. His eyebrow cocked as he looked at the other man closely, noticing as he did the slight red of his eyes and his ragged breathing.

"Very well then." Tytan said as he gripped the blade in his right hand, his grip loose and his body relaxed as he slowly approached Robb ready for anything.

With a shout Robb lunged forward, taking one step before he swung wildly at Tytan.

Seeing this Tytan batted the sword to the side and slammed his free hand into Robb's chest. Knocking the air out of Robb's lungs and making the northerner stagger backwards a few steps.

"Focus Robb, if you go about hacking and slashing at your opponent like some savage it will do you no good." Tytan said bluntly as he stepped forward, his blade sweeping around as he parried several more of Robb's wild strikes. His movements controlled and precise as with a flick of his wrist Tytan knocked the blade to one side once more before he punched Robb in the sternum, sending him staggering backwards once more.

"When fighting with just a sword you should keep the blade to one side, as that way you leave only one side open to attack." Tytan said as he approached Robb once more, his blade held up in front of him and slightly to the right, showing Robb a stance he could copy.

Scowling Robb took a few deep breaths, before he clenched his sword tighter and faced off with Tytan again, this time though he was copying Tytan's stance and was acting slightly less erratic.

"Good, now relax your grip on your sword and allow yourself to loosen up. In a fight you will need to move fast and freely, your actions should flow into one another. If you are tense though, you won't be able to do this, and your attacks will instead be tense, stilted and jerky." Tytan said calmly twirling his blade in his hand as he did so, before without another word he took a few steps forward.

Seeing this Robb lashed out again, his blade striking against Tytan's as the two of them sparred back and forth, their blades ringing out as they danced around each other, Tytan purposefully slowing down to allow Robb a chance to keep up. With Robb trying to keep Tytan's words in mind, as he focused on staying relaxed.

Taking a step back after a few minutes of sparring, Tytan nodded his head. "Good now come at me, I want you to make a feint attack, followed by a parry and then a lunge."

Robb frowned in confusion as he heard that.

"Watch me and then copy." Tytan said, his voice still calm as he thrust his sword out. Causing Robb to instinctively try to knock the blade away, only for Tytan to move his sword under Robb's, before he continued the motion and knocked Robb's sword away, leaving his chest open for a swift lunge. The tip of Tytan's blade, halting an inch from Robb's chest.

Robb's eyes widened at this, taking a few steps back at the suddenness of the action, before he looked back up and stared at Tytan.

"Did you follow that?" Tytan asked.

Robb grit his teeth and then nodded his head.

"Good, now do it." Tytan replied as he raised his sword and stood opposite Robb, his feet shoulder width apart, as he faced him, his right foot slightly forward and his back foot slight back.

Robb nodded his head as he faced Tytan again, his previous frustration and anger forgotten as he instead focused on what he was doing. Which he thought, was no doubt what his friend had intended to do when he had approached Robb.

 **( - )**

 **(The Next Day)**

It was early the following morning when Tytan met with Ned and Catelyn Stark to offer his official condolences. He would have tried to do it the day before, but had had ended up giving Robb a two hour lesson in sword fighting, after which he had gone to a tavern in Winter Town, getting drunk with Theon, Robb, Jamie and the rest of Tytan's personal guard.

Eventually though what had started out as a simple drink away from the dreary halls of Winterfell, had turned into an all-night affair. As Ubba, Ivar, Matthias, Martin, Luke and Arthur, Tytan's personal elite guards, also got involved in the drinking. The six of them, all of them skilled and hardened warriors, like Jamie and Tytan. Soon enough they had begun the drinking games and challenges. Knowing as they did that the Prince was footing the bill for the night, much to his chagrin.

With Martin and Luke, two olive skinned, black haired Dornishmen taking to the tables as they sang and danced, swigging wine and ale like drowning men. Entertaining the whole tavern with rude ditties they had picked up during their time as mercenaries in Essos.

Ubba and Ivar, both of whom hailed from the Vale also acted up a bit, as Ubba a massive bear of a man, who Tytan personally thought had links to one of the mountain clans in Vale, challenged anyone he could to an arm-wrestle. Whilst Ivar a skinny, sly looking man with cropped blonde hair and a slightly pointed face, engaged serval off duty Stark guardsmen in a game of dice, one which left Ivar much wealthier than he had been at the beginning of the game. This of course didn't surprise anyone who knew the man, after all he was more of a rogue than a knight,

As for Matthias of the Stormlands and Arthur of the Westerlands, both of them were a little more behaved. Though the two of them did get in a fight after they both attempted to court the attention of the same whore. Only for them to make up due to their mutual dislike of Theon Greyjoy, after the Stark ward outbid the two of them for a night with her. The pale faced youth no doubt quite pissed off that Ros wasn't selling her services tonight, as he had been complaining about it for the entire night.

In the end though after an eight hour binge Tytan had eventually returned to his room, of course only after making sure the rest of his group had at least passed out somewhere safe. With that done, Tytan had then simply underdressed and crawled into bed with an amused Ros, who had spent most of the night with some of her friends, away from the rowdy and noisy tavern. Which is why she was so amused that the usually composed Tytan had stumbled into their room very drunk, so much so that he had just cuddled with her before falling asleep. His tiredness and the alcohol overpowering his metabolism and knocking him out for the count.

Now though, in the bright light of early morning he had ended up dragging himself out of bed so that he could give his condolences to the Stark's about the fate of their son, as was proper.

As Tytan walked through the halls of Winterfell his Kingsguard, Jamie, was conspicuously absent from his side. Not that this surprised Tytan much, as the man had been in an odd mood the night before and had drunk far more than he usually did. In fact by the end of the night, Tytan had been the one carrying him to his chambers. Which was somewhat of a role reversal for the two of them, as usual it was Jamie dragging Tytan home from whatever vice he had decided to indulge himself in at the time. As such Tytan hadn't even bothered waking his uncle, as the man would no doubt be dead to the world, or so hungover that a crippled six year would likely beat him in a fight.

Pushing away his hazy memories of the night before, Tytan instead focused on the matter at hand as he made his way to where he knew the comatose Stark boy was being kept. Assuming as he did so that one or other of the boy's parent would be with him.

As he reached the room his assumption turned out to be correct, as after a light knock on the door, he entered to find both Lord Stark and his wife sitting beside Bran's bed, with the Stark's Maester, Luwin, reading something in the corner.

Looking around, Tytan noticed that Ned was already fully dressed in a leather jerkin and a large fur cloak, his usual grim look prominent on his face as he looked down at his boy. Sat beside the northern Lord was his wife, Catelyn, who was red eyed and very pale. Her appearance not as meticulous as it had been when last Tytan had seen her. Not that this surprised him.

"Lord Stark, Lady Stark," Tytan said quietly, as the two of them looked up at him, his face remaining stoic as he pushed aside his personal issues with Ned Stark for now. "I apologize for interrupting, but I thought it proper that I give you my deepest condolences for the tragedy that has befallen your son, and if there is anything I can do, don't hesitate to ask?"

As Tytan said the words, he knew they were meaningless. After all they were just platitudes that one of his station was expected to make for the sake of propriety.

"Thank you Prince Tytan, you are most kind" Lord Eddard replied solemnly, giving Tytan a nod of his head as he accepted the Prince's condolences.

Tytan returned the nod, and was about to make his leave, not wanting to intrude any further than he already had. Before he could though, he was brought up short by the voice of Catelyn Stark.

"Is there anything you can do?" Catelyn Stark asked, her voice soft and faltering.

Tytan turned to look at her as he heard that, his brow furrowing in confusion. "My Lady?"

"You're blessed by the Gods aren't you? Or at least that's what they say. Surely there is something you can do?" Catelyn asked pleadingly, a note of desperation entering her voice as she stared at Tytan.

At the side of the room Maester Luwin shifted slightly, looking up from his book and instead staring intensely at Tytan. The wizened old man's brow furrowing as he too had heard those stories from his fellow Maesters, plus he had also witnessed the Prince using magic to manipulate water. As such the fact the boy had power was not in question, but the source and limits of those powers, those were things that the Maesters were interested in.

Closing his book, Luwin placed his undivided attention on Tytan, both hopeful that the Prince would give something away that he could then report back to his superiors in Oldtown, and also that the Prince would be able to heal the young Stark. After all in his tenure at Winterfell, Luwin had grown fond of all of the Starks and he would be loath to see any one of them die.

Tytan frowned as he heard Lady Stark's request. "I am afraid I am not able to heal other people my Lady, when it comes to things like this I am no more powerful than another man."

Lady Stark's face crumpled at that, as she found her hope crushed yet again. It was unfair of her, but for a moment she had thought the Crown Prince would be able to do something, and that Bran would be fully healed, now that she knew he couldn't she felt both despair at her situation and slight anger at the Prince.

"My apologies." Tytan said, as he gave a short bow to Lord and Lady Stark.

"It's no fault of yours my Prince." Ned spoke up, his face as stoic as ever as he put a hand on his wife's and gave it a little squeeze.

Tytan nodded again as he heard that, before he turned and left. His mood now somewhat soured after the interaction he had just had. A part of him knowing, just from looking at the boy and his experience of wounds, that if the boy ever woke up and that was a big if, then it would be unlikely he would ever walk again. Plus there was always a chance he could have brain damage too, which in this kind of society was kind of a death sentence unto itself.

Departing from the room and leaving the two parents to their grief, Tytan instead decided to get a bit of fresh air before he went to have breakfast with the family. Knowing as he did so that their time at Winterfell was drawing to a close, the evidence for which could be seen as he stepped out of Winterfell's keep and saw both the northern servants and Royal servants starting to pack up the wagons which would be accompanying the column down to King's Landing.

Looking away from the preparation, Tytan instead glanced over at some nearby stables, where he could see his Uncle Tyrion was having some sort of altercation with Joffrey. The shortest member of House Lannister looking distinctly the worst for wear, much to Tytan's amusement. Especially since, after the man had joined Tytan and his companions at the tavern last night, Tytan had decided to drop his unconscious Uncle off in the castle's stables on his route back to his room, mainly because Tytan and his very drunk companions found it funny at the time. Which in the cold light of day, remained to be the case.

Moving over to the two, Tytan hoped to find out just what two of his least favourite family members were arguing about this time.

"Before we go you will go to Lord and Lady Stark and offer your sympathies," Tyrion said, the irritation in his voice clearly audible as Tytan sidled over. Not that Tyrion noticed, as by now he was far too concerned with berating his nasty little nephew about common decency.

"What good will my sympathies do them?" Joffrey asked petulantly, his right hand idly resting on the hilt of his sword. A beautifully crafted blade, called 'Lion's Tooth' or something pretentious like that, a blade that never had, and likely never would see battle considering the owner.

"Nothing" Tyrion admitted as he tried to pat himself down, trying to get the worst of the shit and straw from his fine clothing. A part of him suspecting his other nephew, Tytan, of being in some way responsible for his accommodations last night, especially since the last thing he remembered was getting drunk with him and his men and singing sea shanties. "But still it is expected of you, your absence the day before was noted, as was your brother, Tytan's."

Joffrey scoffed as he heard that, a slight sneer playing around his lips, "If the Crown Prince didn't have to, then why should I. Besides the boy means nothing to me… plus I can't stand the wailing of women."

The still unnoticed Tytan cocked an eyebrow at that. After all to a certain extent he could understand his brother's actions. After all young Bran meant nothing to Tytan either, he had met the boy a couple of times and exchanged a few pleasantries, which was about the grand total of their interactions. But still it was expected of the Prince's to make an appearance, due to Ned Stark's status as one of the Great Lords of Westeros, and the fact that they were his guests. Plus even though he didn't know the boy well, Tytan was still saddened to hear of what happened to him, for the simple fact that he had a scrap of empathy in him, which was something Joffrey didn't have.

Leaning against the stable wall, Tytan watched on in amusement, already knowing what was about to happen. After all one of the things Tytan appreciated about Tyrion, was that he knew how to make a point.

With that said Tyrion reached out his hand and slapped Joffrey hard across the face, which for the dwarf's size was pretty impressive. Tytan especially appreciated the sound the slap made, and the slight whimper his little brother let out.

"One more word like that and I will hit you again." Tyrion warned his nephew, his hand raised threateningly.

"I'm telling mother," Joffrey replied, his hand holding his now reddening cheek as he tried to back away from his diminutive Uncle, only to find himself trapped.

Taking a step forwards Tyrion slapped him again, causing Joffrey to let out yet another whimper.

"Go ahead, but first you will go to Lord and Lady Stark and you will fall on your knees and offer them your sincere condolences. Do you understand?" Tyrion replied, the faintest hint of amusement now in his tone.

"You can't-" Joffrey began to object, the boy clearly not understanding what was happening.

Tyrion slapped him again, "do you understand?"

Finally giving in Joffrey nodded angrily, before turning and storming off the second Tyrion moved to let him. The young boy in such a mood that he didn't even notice the grinning Tytan nearby as he flounced away.

The Hound, Sandor Clegane, a massive heavily armoured warrior with lank dark hair and a hideous burn across one side of his face, turned to Tyrion as the Prince he had been assigned to protect stormed off. "The Prince will remember that little lord," Clegane warned a bored expression on his face.

"I hope so," Tyrion shrugged in response. "And if he forgets be a good dog and remind him."

The Hound grunted at that before he turned and began to follow after Joffrey, pausing as he did so to give Tytan the slightest of nods. A grim smile on his face as Tytan returned the nod. The two of them having had an amicable relationship ever since Tytan had had the Hound's brother, Gregor Clegane, castrated and sent to the Night's Watch along with all of his men. Which of course left the Lordship of House Clegane to Sandor, and gave his brother the punishment he more than deserved.

Watching the Hound leave, Tytan decided to make his presence known to his Uncle.

"So Tyrion, should I be expecting the same treatment?" Tytan spoke up as he moved away from the wall and instead approached his Uncle, who by then had managed to get the worst of the muck and hay off of him.

"It depends," Tyrion replied, an unsurprised look on his face as he looked up and saw his other nephew.

"Oh?" Tytan queried.

"Yes on whether you have given your condolences to Lord and Lady Stark, and on whether you are the reason I woke up surrounded by shit and pigs, and on whether you will slap me back?" Tyrion rattled off as he stepped out of the stables.

"I'm going to say yes on all three." Tytan replied easily as he and his Uncle began to walk away from the stables and towards the keep.

"You can be a real cunt sometimes, you know that?" Tyrion replied irritably as he waddled along next to Tytan, only partially serious.

"Doesn't that apply to most people?" Tytan said with a shrug, his eyes shifting to rest on a bucket of water nearby as he walked past. "But I do have a way to make it up to you?"

"Oh?" Tyrion queried suspiciously.

"Yep, I call it an instant bath." Tytan continued, before with a click of his fingers and a slight exertion of his Demigod powers, he caused the water to explode out of the bucket and drench his Uncle from head to toe.

"Oh for fuck's sake, was that really necessary!" Tyrion snapped, as he let out a shout and hopped about, the cold northern air having made the water freezing cold.

"Yes," Tytan said with a smile as he patted his Uncle on the head, using his powers yet again to completely dry him. "It was because of the smell."

Tyrion grumbled as he heard that, but didn't say anything as he instead looked down and saw that his clothing was now a lot cleaner, plus he no longer stank of pigs and shit.

"Now come along Uncle, breakfast awaits us, and we don't want to keep mother waiting." Tytan said with a large smile, mentally noting to himself as he did so that he would need to watch out for his Uncle's revenge. After all the little man always liked to make his point known, and more often than not got Tytan back, especially since he knew Tytan would take it with good humour.

 **( - )**

 **(In the Great Hall)**

A few minutes later found Tytan sat with his family, minus Joffrey, in Winterfell's great hall. Where by the time he had arrived his mother, Myrcella and Tommen were already eating, whilst his Uncle Jamie, looking very much the worst for wear tried to stomach a light breakfast.

After a muttered "morning" to his family, Tytan took a place on the table next to Tommen, helping himself to anything he could, as he piled his plate high with bacon, sausages and anything else he could get his hands on. Similarly Tyrion also gave his greetings and took a seat, ordering one of the servants to bring him an ale as he did so. Which was something Tytan also asked for, a slight grin spreading across his face as he saw Jamie pale a bit at the thought.

Before Tytan could really get stuck into his meal though, he was distracted by Myrcella, who upon seeing Tytan decided to ask something to the table at large. "Is Bran going to die?"

Tytan frowned as he first heard that, a thoughtful look passing across his face as he looked over to his little sister. As he did so a faint smile passed across his face as he saw the concern in Myrcella green eyes. His little sister always was a sweet girl, far more emphatic that Tytan or any of his brothers. It was one of many great traits she had.

After a few seconds of silence, Tytan finally replied. "No, or at least they don't think so."

Both Tommen and Myrcella smiled as they heard that, the two of them having been closer to the younger Stark children than their elder brother, due to them all being similar in age. Cersei on the other hand tensed as she heard Tytan's response, her brow furrowing minutely as she focused in on her eldest son.

"What do you mean," Cersei asked, her voice soft yet strong.

"Well he probably means that Bran may survive." Tyrion cut in, his voice slightly sarcastic as he looked up from his food and gave his elder sister a bored look, the look deliberate as he saw her send him a withering look of her own. "What? I talked to the Maester, and that's what he says."

Cersei and Jaime exchanged a look as they heard that, but said nothing more. Which was something Tytan caught, as he gave his Uncle and mother a curious look for a second, before letting it go. After all he trusted them, and if they wanted to throw each other odd looks then that was their business.

"Will Bran be alright though?" Tommen spoke up, interrupting Tytan from his thoughts, as the younger boy looked to his older brother for comfort.

"I'm not sure, or at least I can't say for sure." Tytan said uncomfortably. "I didn't speak to the Maester, I merely dropped in briefly and gave the Stark's my condolences."

"Maybe I can answer then." Tyrion spoke up once more, as he looked over at Tommen. The dwarf not bothering to soften his words. "The fall has broken his back and mangled his legs, even if the boy wakes up, he will likely never be able to walk again."

Upon hearing this, Tommen looked down at his plate.

"You think it's likely that'll he'll wake up?" Cersei asked, once again looking over at her little brother as she did so.

"I'm sure he will, but I suppose it's in the hands of the gods." Tyrion replied, before giving Tytan a sideways look. "Unless there is something you can do nephew?"

"The Stark's already asked," Tytan replied sharply, "Healing crippled children isn't really something I know much about."

"Pity." Tyrion said softly. "Then we'll just have to wait until he awakens and hope for the best."

"Even if the boy lives though, he will be a cripple. It'd be better to end his suffering, it would be a mercy to-". Jaime spoke up, his hangover forgotten for the minute.

"I disagree," Tytan suddenly spoke up, cutting his Uncle off.

"Oh?" Jamie asked as he looked over at his nephew with faint surprise, Jamie having thought Tytan would be in agreement with him about this.

"Well as long as the boy's mind is not affected he can still live a decent life. Sure he won't be fighting, running or riding horses, or anything like that, but I can name more than a few nobles nowadays who can't do those things either, like Mace Tyrell. Though that's more to do with him being fat and incompetent than crippled. Still though, Bran can still be of use to his family, and could still live a decent life." Tytan said with a shrug, after all in his first life there were many disabled people who went on to do brilliant things. Though of course that was in the twenty first century, not a borderline medieval society like the one he was living in now.

"I suppose." Jamie replied unconvinced.

"Not that this really has anything to do with us. After all the boy is Lord Stark's son." Tyrion spoke up dryly, before giving Jamie a frown. "And as a 'cripple' myself, I would just like to say that for once I agree with Tytan."

"Ok fine, I was just saying." Jamie said as he raised his hands up in front of him.

Tytan rolled his eyes as he heard that, but let the issue drop. After all Tyrion was right, this had nothing to do with them, it was up to Ned Stark what would happen.

"And personally I would be very interested in hearing what the boy has to say when he awakens." Tyrion continued, looking between his two elder siblings as he did so.

"Can we drop this for now, it's hardly a pleasant conversation for breakfast." Cersei suddenly replied, as she cast a gaze over the table. Silencing the others for a moment as the family ate their meal in silence for a few minutes, before conversation began again, only this time focusing on the imminent journey back to King's Landing.

 **( - )**

 **AN: So there you go, what do you think? Personally I was hoping to have had Tytan on his way south by now, however this chapter got away from me as I started adding in more stuff. However next chapter will hopefully see the return to King's Landing and the shenanigans involved. Other than that I hope you all are enjoying the story so far and I appreciate all the reviews I have received, both positive and negative.**

 **Hope you leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Greed720.**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: So here is the next chapter, hope you all enjoy it. Originally I was hoping to update 'The Asura', my My Hero Academia/Naruto crossover, unfortunately I could only do about half of it before I got stuck. So instead of forcing that story, I decided to update this story. As with this one I have so many ideas I can't help my self.**

 **But anyway, here is the next chapter, I hope you all enjoy it. Please leave a comment or a review at the end please.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones.**

 **( - )**

 **(Last Time)**

"Not _that this really has anything to do with us. After all the boy is Lord Stark's son." Tyrion spoke up dryly, before giving Jamie a frown. "And as a 'cripple' myself, I would just like to say that for once I agree with Tytan."_

 _"_ _Ok fine, I was just saying." Jamie said as he raised his hands up in front of him._

 _Tytan rolled his eyes as he heard that, but let the issue drop. After all Tyrion was right, this had nothing to do with them, it was up to Ned Stark what would happen._

 _"_ _And personally I would be very interested in hearing what the boy has to say when he awakens." Tyrion continued, looking between his two elder siblings as he did so._

 _"_ _Can we drop this for now, it's hardly a pleasant conversation for breakfast." Cersei suddenly replied, as she cast a gaze over the table. Silencing the others for a moment as the family ate their meal in silence for a few minutes, before conversation began again, only this time focusing on the imminent journey back to King's Landing._

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 7**

 **( - )**

 **(Sometime Later, In the North)**

The Royal Processions departure from Winterfell had been somewhat of a demure affair, especially when compared with their dramatic arrival a few days before. Though considering what had happened the day before they left, then maybe the reasons behind the column's quieter exodus were somewhat understandable. After all one of the Stark family son's was comatose, and many presumed not long for this world.

Still despite their swift and somewhat solemn departure, Tytan had taken the time to say his farewells to some of the people he had come to know over his time at Winterfell. Including young Robb, the Prince and the Stark Heir having become quite friendly over the short course of the King's stay. Then there was Roz, the whore, who after he had had another quick shag, he had given a golden necklace and told her to seek him out if she ever decided to come to King's Landing.

Tytan having become very fond of the beautiful, quick-witted girl. So much so that he had been tempted to invite her back to King's Landing with him, and have her as a live in mistress. Though in the end he had not made the offer, partly because he didn't want to put her in the awkward position of having to refuse the Crown Prince if she didn't' want to come, and partly because he didn't quite trust his father not to try something on with her when they were on the road. Which is why he had instead made her the offer if she ever found herself wanting to head south.

After his goodbyes to those he had come to care about, Tytan had then also, as propriety dictated, given his regards to Lady Catelyn Stark and her children, Rickon her youngest, and Bran who was still comatose. After all these were the only Stark's who were remaining in the North, as both Arya and Sansa were joining their father in King's Landing.

The exact reasons why Stark was bringing the two girls was a bit lost on Tytan, but a part of him suspected that Ned Stark might be hoping to find matches for his daughters whilst in King's Landing, after all neither of them were betrothed, or at least they weren't as far as Tytan was aware.

Though of course that wasn't without trying on the part of Robert, who Tytan knew had attempted to set up a marriage between Sansa and Tytan. The fat King having been hoping to bind his and Ned's House's together through blood.

How Tytan knew that was simple, Robert had bluntly told Tytan he was going to do so on the ride up to Winterfell. To which Tytan had replied by politely telling him to piss off. Surprisingly Robert had seemed to listen to as he had backed off the idea, though that might have also been because Cersei weighed in with her opinion. Making it clear that marrying Tytan off to the Stark girl made no sense, after all the North was already loyal to Robert due to his friendship with Ned Stark.

Either way, that brief conversation with his mother and father was the last Tytan had heard on the matter. So as far as he knew he didn't have any matches yet. Though his Uncle Renly kept trying to make a match between Tytan and Margery Tyrell, which Tytan wasn't necessarily against, only he would generally want to get to know the person he was going to marry beforehand, which seemed unlikely considering the Tyrell maiden rarely if ever left Highgarden, her House's seat of power, and Tytan had never really had the urge to visit.

 **( - )**

Pushing those thoughts out of his head for now, Tytan instead concentrated on the here and now. After all currently Tytan, Jamie and his guardsmen were riding down a small track that wound its way through a thickly wooded area in the North. The group of eight having travelled many leagues away from the King's Road that the Royal procession was using.

The reason for this of course, was because Tytan had grown bored of the column's slow pace. It had been over a month since they had left Winterfell and they were still deep within the North. The Queen and King once again competing to see which of them could be the bigger pain in the arse when it came to delaying the column's progress.

For the first few weeks Tytan had stayed with the column, alternating between scouting ahead and riding alongside either his mother's carriage, where he would either entertain Tommen and Myrcella with heavily edited stories from his life as a Demigod, or subtly mocking Joffrey. Though he had to be careful with his mocking, as Cersei was protective of all her children, and Tytan wanted to avoid the embarrassment of being lectured by his mother. Not because her words would do anything, no, it was mainly because when it did happen he could sense his Uncle and friends around him hiding smirks and laughter at his expense.

For the most part though, very little of interest had happened so far on the procession's journey south. In fact one of the few things that did happen was, that a couple of days from Winterfell, Tyrion had announced that he was going to be accompanying Jon Snow to the Wall. Not to join the Night's Watch of course, but more for a bit of sightseeing.

After hearing what his Uncle was up to, Tytan had had to bite back his amusement, especially after hearing how his Uncle was planning on pissing off the Wall.

Still though he had gone to see his Uncle off, as although Tyrion might not be his favourite family member, he was still family and Percy would always remain loyal to his family. He had also tkaken the opportunities to say his goodbyes to Jon Snow, not that the dour boy had seemed that enthusiastic about going or about talking to Tytan, in fact he had seemed more serious and miserable than ever. Of course it was this attitude and his general lack of charisma or personality that made it so Tytan never really warmed up to the bastard, certainly not enough to offer him employment as one of Tytan's guardsmen.

That though had been more than a week ago, and practically nothing had happened since then as the column had simply meandered down the King's Road, occasionally stopping so Robert could go hunting, or so they could setup the camp for the night.

A month that had been about all that Tytan could take before he had gotten bored and decided to break away from the procession and explore a bit more of the North. Of course he had informed the fat man and his mother what he was doing. Not that Robert had paid much interest, instead he had just given Tytan a brief nod before going back to his conversation with Ned Stark. His mother had been a bit more concerned, though that was likely more because Tytan was taking Jamie with him than any concern that he might be in danger, though he of course didn't mention that to her.

That had been a few days ago, and was why Tytan and the other seven were riding alone through the forest. All of them wearing mail and armour, though fortunately Jamie had left behind his Kingsguard armour and had instead replaced it with a set of Lannister guardsmen's armour. After all a set of clearly expensive golden, coloured armour was not that discreet and would make them a target if spotted by some well-informed bandits who would know his presence likely meant Royalty. Which when there were only eight of them, was something to keep in mind.

As for Tytan himself, he was back in his mail and leather armour. His mail now gleaming silver after having been scoured with vinegar by one of the Royal servants. His dark leather armour also having somewhat of a gleam due to it recently having been polished. The procession's departure might have been low-key, but impressions had to be maintained, or at least that is what Cersei said.

Around his waist Tytan had his longsword belted on his right hip and a long dagger on his left. On top of that he also had a hunting spear holstered onto the side of his warhorse, not because he was looking to do any hunting, but more because he was crap with a bow and he preferred to have some sort of long ranged weapon to fall back on if necessary.

The rest of Tytan's group were similarly armed with an assortment of their preferred weaponry, all of them riding large warhorses and wearing armour, not particularly inconspicuous, but then again they weren't trying to be. Eight heavily armoured soldiers weren't an attractive target for bandits, with many likely seeing them as more trouble than they were worth.

"So I'm curious, are we going anywhere in particular or just riding for the sake of riding?" Jamie spoke up calmly, breaking the silence of the last hour or so as he looked over at his Nephew.

"We're exploring" Tytan replied easily, a grin on his face as he looked around the quiet forest. "Besides it's not that bad, we get warm beds and good ale in the evening, far better than staying in tents and drinking that watered down piss they call ale back at the column."

"He makes a good point." Ivar chipped in with a grin, and Tytan did, after all the group had been staying at Inns and taverns for the last few days, which were far more comfortable that it would have been had they stay with the procession and slept in tents.

"I know but I would prefer if we have a destination, aimlessly wandering is almost as bad as being back with the column." Jamie replied as he looked over at the sly looking blonde, before turning back to his Nephew.

"You exaggerate." Tytan replied blandly, as he and his party continued to move through the woods, the only sound that could be heard, apart from their conversation, being the whistle of wind and the clump of their horse's hooves striking earth.

Opening his mouth, Jamie was about to make another snide comment. Not because he was really that bothered by the situation, but more because he enjoyed a bit of verbal jousting with his Nephew. However before he could, he was cut off by the distant sound of a scream, followed by the faint barking of dogs. The silence of the forest having been well and truly broken now.

Twisting in his saddle, Tytan immediately locked onto the direction the sound came from. All previous cheer gone from his face, as his jaw clenched and his fists tightened on his reins. Already he could feel his blood pumping faster, his heart beginning to beat faster at the prospect of a fight. His Demigod spirit coming to the fore.

"Well it appears now we have an aim, Uncle." Tytan spoke up, his voice holding a hardness it lacked before.

"I'd advise caution Nephew, we don't know what may be happening, or why." Jamie replied, though like his Nephew he had tensed up at the sound, his right hand unconsciously moving to the sword he had sheathed at his hip.

"Well there's only one way to find out then, isn't there?" Tytan responded with a devilish grin, before he dug his heels into the flanks of his horse, ignoring its irritable complaining, as he goaded it move faster. The rest of his party matching his pace.

 **( - )**

 **(Deeper within the forest)**

Another scream sounded out in the forest, as a half-naked young woman ran through the woods. Her eyes wide with fear, and blurred by the tears that uncontrollably streamed from them. Her breath coming out in exhausted pants as she forced herself to continue running, the only thing driving her forward being her terror fueled adrenaline.

Behind the girl, the barking and howling of the dogs grew louder. As to did the sounds of laughter, and the beat of hooves. Her pursuers were closing in on her, deep down the girl knew she would not escape. Very few ever did escape him.

Still the thought of what would happen to her if she was caught drove her on. After all a quick death was the best outcome should her hunters find her, getting eaten alive by the hunting dogs that was the fate that was more likely.

Stumbling slightly as she ran, the girl let out a loud shout as her foot plunged through the mossy ground, her ankle twisting as it got caught up in the gnarled roots of a tree.

Letting out a scream of despair as she fell to the floor, the girl once again tried to force herself back to her feet. Her ankle throbbing with pain, and her breaths coming out even more ragged as she stumbled to her feet and risked looking back. Her brown eyes wide with fear, and her long brown hair matted to her skull with sweat.

Behind her the howls of the dogs sounded again, this time were a lot closer. So close in fact she could hear their loud panting breaths and the rustle of leaves and branches as they chased after her scent. She could also hear the dozen or so people chasing her. Half of them on horseback, the other half on foot.

Turning the girl lunged forward, trying to once again lose them in the woods. As she did though, she put weight on her ankle, which caused her to let out an involuntary shout of pain as she sagged against the tree. Her injured ankle not being able to fully support her weight.

Once again the dogs howled, the great, black beast now partially visible as they flitted through the trees.

Pushing herself up again, the girl once more attempted to flee. Before she could though, she was brought up short by an arrow striking her in the side. The force of the blow knocking her to the ground with a scream, the arrow finding its way through her rips and penetrating deep into her chest.

Yet more laughter followed this as the dogs finally caught up to her, there masters following after them.

Looking up, one hand clasped to her side, trying to stop the blood from flowing out her wound. The girl looked at her attackers. Eleven of them were lightly armoured men, with pale northern complexions and leering, pock marked, scarred faces. All of them were wearing leather hunting clothes, and were armed with swords and spears, with a few of them, including their leader carrying bows.

The leader of the group was as dark haired and pale as the others, with short dark coloured hair, a wispy beard, slightly protuberant blue eyes and sneering mouth full of slightly yellowed teeth. He was dressed slightly more richly than the others, with him wearing a leather armour over the top of chain mail. A castle forged steel blade sheathed at his right hip, and a finely crafted bow in his hand. A look of cruel amusement evident in his cold eyes as he looked down at her, glorying in her pain.

The final member of the group was a girl, maybe sixteen, with lank, stringy, dark coloured hair and pale skin. Like the leader she was armed with both a bow and wore cruel smirk across her plain face.

"Looks like we caught the little bitch!" The girl called out, her voice filled with mockery as she knocked another arrow and pulled back the string.

"It was a good shot, it's just a pity the hunt had to end so soon." The leader replied blandly as he looked the fallen girl up and down, a disappointed look in his eyes as he saw where the arrow had struck.

"P-please!" The wounded girl cried, her voice weak and pained. "I've done n-nothing wrong, w-why are y-you doing this?!"

"Why?" The leader mused, the men behind him all chuckling at the question. "Why not, I'm doing it because I can, what other reason would I need?"

The girl couldn't say anything to that. After all she could barely comprehend the words coming out of the man's mouth. They were sick, they were twisted and they were evil.

"Ah well, we might as well finish it." The leader spoke again, his voice almost childlike as he looked down at his victim.

"We should probably get back to the Dreadfort soon, so how do you want to do it?" One of the other men asked, this one having shoulder length black hair, and a prominent scar running across his face. "Fast or slow?"

The leader clicked his teeth as he heard that, before he smirked. "Why not let the dogs decide, they need a good meal every now and then, after all."

With that the man let out a slight whistle, some of his fellow hunters laughing, whilst others looked away, not quite able to stomach the sight they were about to see as they dogs began to move towards the downed girl.

It was as this was happening that chaos suddenly descended on the group. The first indicator being the spear that shot through the trees, striking the leader in his shoulder and hurling him off his horse and to the ground with a shout of agony.

This was soon followed by the sound of hooves as more than half a dozen armoured and mounted men exploded forth from the trees. Catching the group of men, and one woman, by surprise, as they suddenly went from the hunters to the hunted.

 **( - )**

 **(With Tytan, a few moments before)**

With a slight grunt of exertion Tytan stood up in the stirrups of his horse, a spear held aloft in his right hand and the reins of his horse in his other. His eyes narrowed as he saw the group ahead, his breath coming out low and slow as he pulled his arm back. His gaze fixed on the man he presumed was the leader.

Then without a sound Tytan hurled his spear, before he lowered himself back into his saddle. His free hand now grasping onto the dragon bone hilt of his sword as he unsheathed it in one fluid motion. Around him he could hear his men doing the same. Jamie, Arthur and Matthias drawing swords, whilst Martin and Luke readied their bows, nocking arrows as they skillfully guided their horse with just their legs.

As this was happening Ubba pulled his war axe off his back, a loud roar issuing forth from his beard mouth as he spurred his mount onwards, moving slightly ahead of the rest of the group. The battle fury having begun to descend on the giant of a man. Following closely behind him was Ivar, who unlike the others was wielding a spear, his eyes narrowed as he prepared to use it like one would a lance.

Within moments Tytan and his men had burst forth from the trees and descended on the unprepared group of men. Ubba making first contact, as with another roar he leaned over in his saddle and slammed the head of his axe into the scarred face of one of the men. The sharpened steel blade sheering through the man's face, and sending him sprawling to the ground dead.

Following swiftly behind Ubba was Tytan, who with neither a shout nor a war cry, barged his horse into one of the mounted men. His sword shooting forwards like a striking snake as he slipped his blade through the man's unprotected neck. Before tearing it out and twisting in his saddle to deflect the clumsy blow from another of the mounted men. Tytan not pausing for a second as he twisted his blade, and slashed out again, his blade slashing across his new opponent's throat.

Soon enough the rest of Tytan's men engaged the unprepared hunters, Martin and Luke bringing the hunting dogs and one of their handlers. Their arrows flying true as their bodkin headed arrows easily penetrated the cheap leather armour the man was wearing, and tore through the thin hide of the blood crazed animals.

Within moments all of Tytan's men were engaged in battle, the more experienced and better armed men massacring the marauders. None of them showing any mercy or any remorse as they butchered them. Ignoring the pleading of a fewer of the more cowardly men as they either fell to their needs and surrender, or turn tail and ran. Ivar's spear making short work of two of them as he plunged the blade of his spear through their skulls.

Ignoring this Tytan simply dismounted his horse, his feet landing heavily on the ground as he looked around. His expression cold as he saw that most of the hunters were now dead or dying. Ignoring that for now though, Tytan instead moved towards the downed girl, the victim of these cruel men's actions.

Going down on one knee next to her, Tytan could tell with a glance she was already dead. Her eyes having somewhat of a glassy look to them, one side of her body almost bathed in her own blood. Letting out a sigh Tytan closed the girl's eyes, his gaze straying for a second on the arrow that took her life. The tip having likely punctured one of her lungs, causing her to drown in her own blood.

Pushing himself to his feet Tytan looked away from the girl's body, and instead surveyed the area. Ten of the men were either dead or dying, all of the dogs were dead, and as he looked around he could see the young girl who had been with them was also dead. The bloody trench that had been carved into her body, telling Tytan that Ubba was the likely culprit. Though as he saw the bow in the dead girl's hands, and the quiver of arrows on her back, Tytan could only think the girl reaped what she sowed.

Looking away from her Tytan instead walked over to the leader of the group, the pale man having if possible gone paler as his bloody hands useless struggled at the spear Tytan had lodged in his shoulder.

Coming to a stop just in front of him, Tytan looked down at him in distaste.

"I don't know who you are, but you'll pay for this." The man snarled as he saw Tytan standing over him. His cold blue eyes filled with hatred as he gave up on the spear and instead went for the sword belted at his waist.

In response Tytan grabbed the shaft of the spear and twisted it. Causing the man to let out a cry of pain.

"Who I am doesn't matter. What I'm more interested in, is who you are, and what House you serve?" Tytan asked, his voice light as he released his grip on the spear and instead kneeled down next to the man.

"And what makes you think I serve a House." The leader sneered back at Tytan, ignoring the throbbing pain in his shoulder as he instead just glared into his attacker's green eyes.

"Your weapons, your horse, your armour." Tytan replied dryly. "It's all a bit too good quality for it to belong to bandits."

The man didn't reply to that, instead he just glared at Tytan.

Tytan let out a sigh as he heard that. "I want your name, and the name of the House you serve. Tell me now, and I'll give you a swift death, don't answer and I'll have to make you."

"As if some southern ponce like you could. You don't have the balls." The pale man replied his tone mocking.

Tytan let out a sigh at that, before without a word he grasped the spear lodged in the man's shoulder and ripped it out. The action causing the injured man to let out a loud scream of agony, even as Tytan inspected the blade for damaged before throwing it to the side for now.

"I-idiot!" The injured man sneered, his voice filled with pain from the bloody wound on his shoulder, the spear having caused a lot of damage. "I'm probably going to bleed out now, before you get any of the answers you're after!"

"That's unlikely." Tytan replied easily as he glanced over at the man's shoulder, noting the blood that was pouring out of the man's wound. Raising his hand Tytan began to draw on his Demigod abilities. "Tell me, did you know that the human body is more than seventy percent water?"

The man frowned in confusion as he heard that, not understanding what Tytan was saying.

"Oh yeah, you probably don't understand. Well let's just say men like you have a lot of water in their bodies. I know, it sounds like a bit of useless information. But personally I always found it interesting." Tytan continued, forgetting for a moment that the people of this world were not as advanced as the ones Tytan remembered from his old one.

Hovering his hand over the man's bloody shoulder, Tytan began to force the blood to thicken, clotting the wound. After that he then began to focus on the blood he could feel running through the man's veins and arteries, his gut clenching slightly as he drew on his abilities once more.

"W-what a-are yo…" The man began before he let out a shriek of pain as his arms and legs began to jerk. His body twisting as if some unknown hand guided it.

"Now, here's what's going to happen, you're going to tell me everything I want to know, or I'm going to hurt you." Tytan said, his voice still calm as he manipulated the man's blood, controlling the man's body like a puppeteer might his puppet. Controlling a person's blood, a powerful ability that required a lot of concentration and control. An ability that as a young teenager would have sickened him, but after several centuries spent in Tartarus it didn't make him batter an eye.

"N-no…" The man gasped out, before letting out another cry as he felt his blood begin to boil. The pain almost too much for his mind to comprehend, as he twisted and contorted, before he soiled himself. "P-please stop…"

Twisting his hand Tytan now caused the blood in the man's body to grow colder. The tips of his fingers rapidly darkening, as Tytan leeched the warmth out of the man's body, causing frostbite to set in.

"I will stop, all you have to do is tell me what I want to know." Tytan replied easily, before he twisted his hand again, this time causing the blood vessels in the man's veins to tighten. Making the man cry out as agony lanced through head.

"O-ok, o-ok, I'll tell you!" The man screamed out, his voice almost breaking from the pitch.

Relaxing his hand, Tytan nodded his head grimly. "Good, so let's start off with your name."

"Y-you're a monster!" The man cried out as Tytan stopped his torture.

"No, I'm a Prince. Now your name?" Tytan replied, not at all bothered by the man's accusations. After all he had faced true monsters, he had seen the literal embodiment of evil, the embodiment of the Pit, and knew where he stood with it. Tytan was not some insecure little boy, he was a fully realised Demigod, one who had utmost confidence in who he was as a person.

"R-Ramsay! Ramsay Snow." The now named Ramsay Snow cried out, as Tytan once again forced his limps to twist and jerk, his arm fracturing at the unnatural angle Tytan made it bend. Tytan's gaze as unforgiving as the ocean as he met Ramsay's scared blue ones.

"And the House you serve?" Tytan said calmly, ignoring his men who had gathered around him. None of them looking either surprised or horrified by what he was doing.

"Bolton, I serve House Bolton. Roose Bolton, he's my father!" Ramsay sobbed out, his voice almost breaking.

"House Bolton eh?" Tytan mused, before he looked to Jamie. "What do you think?"

"From what I've heard the Dreadfort is well position fortress, and Roose keeps a garrison of at least one hundred spears in it." Jamie replied back, already knowing what is Nephew was thinking. "An attack on it by the eight of us would be suicide."

"I've no doubt." Tytan replied unbothered, having come to that conclusion himself and dismissed the idea. "Still I'll make sure to remember the name, maybe mention what happened here to Ned. Let the Warden of the North sort this issue out, for now."

"A sensible option." Jamie said with a nod.

"Yes, I don't want to tread on too many toes." Tytan said as he got to his feet.

"And what are you going to do with the bastard?" Jamie asked as he looked down at the pitiful figure of Ramsey Snow.

"Well, I'm going to get as much information from him as I can. Then I'm going to kill him." Tytan replied nonchalantly as he looked down at the man. Before with a frown he looked over to the half-naked body of the dead girl. "Whilst I'm doing that, can you lot wrap the girl in a cloak. We'll endeavor to give her body back to her family if we can, that and whatever money these men had on them."

 **( - )**

 **(A month or so later)**

It had been more than a month since the skirmish in the forest, and since then Tytan and his group had quickly returned to the Royal Procession. Before they did though, like Tytan had said, they had delivered the girl's body back to her parents, along with all the money her killers were carrying. The family having lived quite close to the Dreadfort, meant that Tytan was able to get a look at the imposing structure.

Despite that though, the entire experience had but somewhat of a bitter taste in his mouth, as he had seen how understandably devastated the family was about the girl's death.

The only comfort he had been able to give them was that her death was quick, and her attackers had been brought to a swift and final justice. With Ramsay having met a particularly painful end after imparting everything he knew to Tytan. With his body, along with the bodies of his men all having been left in the forest for the animals to eat. Tytan having refused to give them a proper burial, or allow them to have funeral rights.

Soon after that though, Tytan and his company had ridden back to the column, and there he had confronted Ned Stark about the actions of one of his bannermen. Eddard having apologized for the actions of the man's son and his soldiers, before he had promised to look into it, as had Robert, who in a rare displayed of nobility, had almost lost his temper after hearing of what happened.

That had been a few weeks ago, and from what Tytan had heard, Eddard Stark had sent word to his son at Winterfell. Instructing him to call the banners and place Roose Bolton under arrest, before sending him down to King's Landing to face the King's Justice for the actions of his men.

The last Tytan had heard the Dreadfort had been placed under siege after Roose Bolton had refused to give himself up. Luckily though there were many men in the North who were experienced in the ways of war, like Rodrik Cassel and Bigjon Umber, so Robb as acting Lord of Winterfell did not have too much responsibility on his shoulders. Plus his army was growing daily as more Lord's answered Winterfell's call to arms.

Of course after returning to the procession, Tytan had soon returned to the monotony of travelling slowly south. It was also during this time that he had learned that his father had eventually got his own way, like usual. With him having arranged a betrothal between Joffrey and Sansa. Justifying marrying his second son to Ned Stark's daughter as a way to bring a close friend even closer by binding the North to the South by blood.

For Tytan this was somewhat of a relief, as the last thing he wanted was to be married to some simpering, waif of a girl. Which after having spoken to Sansa a few times, was exactly what the girl was. A girl with little to no personality, who did what she was told, when she was told. She didn't have the independence of thought, the strength of will or the ferocity of spirit that Tytan was looking for in a woman. Instead she was just too… bland and boring.

It was only a pity the girl didn't realise what a bastard his brother was, instead she was blinded by the glamour of being married to a Prince and the friendly mask Joffrey had learned to put on when dealing with new people.

Soon though the girl was likely to have her bubble burst, because after the procession had stopped off at the Crossroads Inn, a particularly unpleasant incident had taken place.

The exact details of just what this incident was, Tytan wasn't sure as he had been at the Inn getting pissed with some of his men, and trying to court the attention of some of the camp followers at the time. In fact he had only known something was wrong when a servant had told him his brother, Joffrey, had been attacked by young Arya Stark, and that Tytan's presence was required at the King's tent.

 **( - )**

 **(In the King's tent)**

Currently Tytan was stood on the raised dais that had been setup within the King's tent, beside Tytan was his father, Robert. The fat, dark haired monarch looking particularly pissed off at the moment as he wedged himself in his throne like chair, his ruddy red cheeks for once not caused by excessive consumption of alcohol, but instead by annoyance.

On the other side of the King was Cersei, the golden haired woman standing stiffly, her expression inscrutable. Beside Cersei was Tytan's younger brother Joffrey, the skinny blonde haired boy looking unusually meek as he clutched one of his arms to his chest. The arm in question, having been wrapped up in bandages.

The rest of the tent was crowded by knights and guardsmen, from both the House of Lannister and Baratheon. Tytan's men weren't there though, save except for Jamie, the six soldiers having instead stayed at the Inn, happily getting drunk off of their Prince's coin a oppose to seeing what triviality the nobles had gotten embroiled in this time.

For Tytan he was still a bit confused as to what had happened, and why a scared looking Arya Stark was being made to stand before the King like a prisoner on trial.

From what little he had been able to gather, Arya along with some boy called Mycah had assaulted Joffrey without provocation by the river earlier today, with Arya's Direwolf having also been involved in the attack, apparently having nearly torn Joffrey's arm off.

For Tytan the entire story seemed a little off. For one Joffrey provoked people by merely existing, so the chances of him having not said or done something to deserve a good kicking was unlikely. Plus the chances of Joffrey having survived being attacked by a Direwolf, even a young one, was unlikely. His brother was a weak coward after all, and a wolf was a vicious predator.

Still judging by the bandages on Joffrey's arm, his feeble demeanor and the slight bruising on his face, Tytan could tell that at least something had happened.

Looking away from the scared looking Arya, Tytan instead eyed the angry looking Ned Stark, who moments before had burst into the tent. Before proceeding to lay into the people there about his daughter being brought before the King without him present. An understandable reaction all things considered.

"I'm sorry Ned," Robert was the first to speak, his voice gruff and irritated as he raised a pudgy hand and attempted to calm his friend, "I didn't want to bring her here so quickly, but I just thought it'd be best if we get this whole business dealt with quickly."

"And what business is that?" Eddard asked, his voice still holding a note of coldness to it. Though it had thawed slightly at Robert's apology. Which was not surprising as Robert Baratheon very rarely apologized.

"You know full well Lord Stark. That girl of yours and the butcher's boy attacked my son. That animal of hers almost took his arm off." Cersei suddenly snapped, the blonde glaring down at both Arya and Lord Stark, her emerald eyes flashing dangerously in the dim light of the tent.

Tytan glanced at his mother at that, sensing that this was not a show, and that she truly was this pissed off. Taking his eyes off her, Tytan then went back to looking at Eddard Stark, taking in the scuffed leather jerkin and birches, his mud stained boots and the sword sheathed at his waist. Guessing as he did so that Eddard had likely been out looking for his daughter, who had apparently run off with her pet wolf after the incident had taken place.

"That's not true!" Arya shouted, the girl having grown a bit bolder now her father was here. Bold enough to speak back to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, "She just bit him a little."

Tytan snorted in amusement as he heard that. Earning himself a scowl from his brother and a withering look from his mother.

"He was hurting Mycah!" Arya continued fiercely ignoring Tytan's amusement as she instead tried to get her point across.

"Joffrey has already told us what happened," Cersei replied coldly as she looked back to the little girl, the Queen obviously a little irritated that the Stark girl was talking back to her, "You and that butcher's boy beat him mercilessly with clubs and then set your wolf on him."

"That's not how it happened!" Arya shouted back, her voice bordering on hysterical as the Queen second-guessed her story, and believed the lying Prince over her. Seeing this Eddard placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Yes it is!" Joffrey shouted back at her, his voice a bit higher than usual and almost as frantic as the girls, "They all attacked me and she threw my sword into the river!"

Tytan did actually laugh at that, once again getting a warning look from his mother, who apparently didn't appreciate Tytan drawing amusement from his younger brother's plight.

"Liar!" Arya shouted back heatedly.

"Shut up!" Joffrey screamed back.

"Enough," Tytan said loudly, the two children's squabbling beginning to get on his nerves. At Tytan's word the tent quietened down, as even Joffrey and Arya shut up and looked at him. "From what I can see, Joffrey has obviously been roughed up a little. That being said though it is also obvious that Joffrey provoked Arya in some way. So without any other witnesses I say Ned choses a fitting punishment for his daughter, and the King does so for his son, and then we can draw a line under this."

Robert grunted as he heard that, the scowl on his face lessening as he saw an easy way out.

Eddard frowned slightly, but couldn't deny the fact that his daughter had admitted her wolf had bit the Prince.

Cersei frowned as she heard that, her gaze shifting to Tytan.

Seeing this Tytan shrugged. "The way I see it both of them are somewhat at fault, so both should be punished by their fathers. And at least this way we can hopefully get past this without any resentment."

"He makes a good point Ned, tell you what I will deal with my son, and you deal with your daughter. Then after that, we'll say no more about it." Robert spoke up loudly, thumping his fist on the arm of his chair as he did so.

"What of the wolf?" Cersei questioned, once again making her presence known before Robert could completely dismiss the incident.

"Wolf?" Robert questioned with a scowl, before he nodded. "Oh yeah, the Direwolf."

"Lord Stark should see to it that they are both sent back North." Tytan spoke up, once again wanting to put an end to this incident without any bad blood. After all Ned Stark, despite Tytan's less than stellar opinion of him, was going to be the new Lord Hand, a powerful positon in the Capital.

Plus Tytan always had a soft spot for dogs. After all he had once had a beloved pet Hellhound of his own.

"Again, he makes a good point Ned. Direwolves are wild animals, the Capital is no place for them." Robert spoke up, as he gave Tytan an appreciative nod.

Ned frowned at that, before giving a short bow. "I will see to it that my daughter, Sansa's, wolf is sent back up North. Arya's though, Nymeria, has gone missing."

"Then it's back in the wild where it belongs." Tytan dismissed, as he stepped off the dais.

Robert nodded at that, before he lumbered to his feet and scowled around at the crowded tent. "Alright then, show's over!"

At those words the crowd in the tent began to break up, the guardsmen and knights all leaving now that the fun had ended. Leaving only the Kingsguard, a few Lannister guardsmen and a few Stark guardsmen, plus surprisingly Sansa Stark, though when and why she had come into the tent Tytan didn't know.

Soon enough though the King and Lord Stark both departed. Robert likely going off to be with a whore or to get drunk and pass out, whilst Eddard took his daughters back to their quarters. A half dozen Stark guardsmen following after him.

This of course left Tytan alone in the Royal tent with his mother, his Uncle and his younger brother. Plus a few Lannister guardsmen.

Glancing around at the guardsmen, Tytan waved for them to go. "Leave us." Which they quickly did, leave only the immediate family. "You to Joffrey, go pick the legs off of a spider or whatever else you do with your free time."

Joffrey scowled as he heard that, and made to responded. Before he could though he was cut off by Cersei, who after a quiet whispered conversation sent her second born son out of the tent.

"What do you think you were doing? Does the idea of family mean nothing to you?" Cersei asked harshly, rounding on the calm looking Tytan the moment they were alone.

Tytan scowled at that, before replying just as harshly. "Family means everything to me, even that little shit Joffrey. Unlike you though I don't let my emotions consume me!"

"And what's that supposed to mean?!" Cersei snapped back, her expression still irritated. But not quite as angry as before.

"It means that needlessly antagonizing the Hand of the King is unnecessary. Especially over a few scratches and a couple of bruises." Tytan replied bluntly.

Cersei scowled at that, but didn't deny Tytan had a point.

"On top of that the fat man wouldn't have done anything to the Stark girl, he loves Ned Stark too much for that, Stark though has a bit more backbone and will punish his daughter in some way. On top of that the King is too lazy to think up a punishment for Joffrey." Tytan added on, making sure his reasons were clear to his mother.

Cersei's scowl faded at that, her expression turning a lot kinder as she stepped closer to Tytan and gently caressed his face. "You're right, and I'm sorry I snapped at you."

Tytan nodded at that, completely unbothered by Cersei's previous irritation. Still though he did feel a point needed to be made. "Still, I think you should see to it Joffrey receives punishment. The boy is one of the Prince's, it's about time he grew up and learned how to act like a man and not a twisted little child."

Cersei frowned slightly as she heard her beloved firstborn's comments on his brother. A part of her knowing he had a point. After all she knew her second born son was twisted, he had done things that had shocked her, and Cersei was not often shocked. Despite that though she loved all her children, so much so that she would kill for them and die for them, but she could at least admit Joffrey was a monster.

"You might not like to hear it, but unless you want him to die young, you're going to need to bring him to heel." Tytan continued on bluntly. Knowing as he did so that he was telling the truth.

Cersei bit her lip as she heard that, but eventually nodded her head. "I'll think about it."

It was the best Tytan was going to get from his mother. The woman was too proud and too stubborn to give any more than that. Even to Tytan.

 **( - )**

 **AN: So what did you all think. There was a few dark bits in this chapter, but unfortunately that is necessary when it comes to Game of Thrones stories. Still I hope you all enjoy the chapter, I quite like this chapter.**

 **Either way I hope you all enjoy this chapter, I ended up polishing it off in a day I was so into it. So I hope you like it too.**

 **Thanks for reading and I hope you all leave a comment or a review.**

 **Greed120**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: So here is the next chapter, I hope you all enjoy it. I also want to thank everyone for all the support they have given this story, I really appreciate it. Thanks to all of you this story is now the most popular story in this crossover section. Or at least it was the last time I checked. So thanks for all your support.**

 **Also if anyone has any questions or wants to ask anything PM me and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones.**

 **( - )**

 **(Last Time)**

 _Tytan nodded at that, completely unbothered by Cersei's previous irritation. Still though he did feel a point needed to be made. "Still, I think you should see to it Joffrey receives punishment. The boy is one of the Prince's, it's about time he grew up and learned how to act like a man and not a twisted little child."_

 _Cersei frowned slightly as she heard her beloved firstborn's comments on his brother. A part of her knowing he had a point. After all she knew her second born son was twisted, he had done things that had shocked her, and Cersei was not often shocked. Despite that though she loved all her children, so much so that she would kill for them and die for them, but she could at least admit Joffrey was a monster._

 _"_ _You might not like to hear it, but unless you want him to die young, you're going to need to bring him to heel." Tytan continued on bluntly. Knowing as he did so that he was telling the truth._

 _Cersei bit her lip as she heard that, but eventually nodded her head. "I'll think about it."_

 _It was the best Tytan was going to get from his mother. The woman was too proud and too stubborn to give any more than that. Even to Tytan._

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 8**

 **( - )**

 **(With the Royal Procession)**

It had taken the Royal Procession another month of travel from the Crossroads Inn before they had finally made it back to King's Landing. Which was something of a relief because the length of the journey had begun to grate on all of them. Even the King had been less frequent in his demands to stop the column so he could hunt.

One good thing that came from this though, was during the last month of the journey to the Capital, the unpleasantness that had taken place at the Crossroads Inn, between Arya and Joffrey, had been all but forgotten. The Direwolf, Lady, and the butcher's boy, Mycah, and his family having all been sent back up North by Ned Stark, with an armed guard. After which the King and the Warden of the North had proceeded to deal out the appropriate punishment to their misbehaving offspring.

Fortunately though, in the end no blood had been split over the incident, Tytan's guardsmen having tracked down the butcher's boy before Joffrey's dog, the Hound, could. After which they had brought him back to the Camp and delivered him to his father.

In fact the only thing that really came of the incident was Lord Stark and Robert punishing their offspring, with Arya being restricted to a carriage under Septa Mordane's eye for the rest of the trip south. Whilst Joffrey was given a thump around the head by Robert and had to travel in the Royal carriage with his mother for the rest of the journey. Both of which were very minor punishments, but far better than what might have happened.

All things considered it was the best that could have come of the situation. Sure it was slightly awkward for a few days when the Stark family and the Baratheon family occasionally came together to dine. But things had eased up eventually, and by the time the procession had reach the capital things had returned to normal.

At present Tytan and his guards were a part of the column as they made their way through the Gate of the Gods, the group of eight having taken their positon near the front of the Royal Procession, just behind where the King and his Kingsguard rode, but in front of Lord Stark and his own retinue. After which the Royal carriage trundled with the Queen and three of her offspring inside.

Riding through the through the streets of King's Landing, and ignoring the stench that came from the mass of humanity that called the place home. Tytan couldn't help but smile slightly as he and his mounted men heading for the looming Red Keep in the distance, his home.

As Tytan and the rest of the procession wended their way through the streets, the smallfolk, had all begun to line the streets. The majority of them cheering and shouting as the majestically armoured soldiers and livered servants that passed by them as they headed to the giant Keep. The King making a show of it as he was currently resplendent in his finest robes, with a stag themed crown atop his head.

The fat man grinning jovially as he waved to the cheering masses, all of whom were so star struck by the pageantry of the King and his company, that they forgot what a crap ruler he was. Still for the moment that didn't matter to them as they instead threw flowers onto the streets, littering the roads with petals, and lifted their children over their heads so that they could see.

Tytan himself was also making somewhat of a show of it, as currently he was dressed in his finest. The dark haired Prince having shed his usual leather armour and chainmail, and had instead donned a fine red leather jerkin, black breeches and polished leather boots. His sword still belted around his waist had also been given a new sheath, this one made out of fine red leather, with panels of gold on it and jewels encrusted along its length.

It was not something Tytan would choose for himself, as he had always been a prudent person. Not given to wasting money on such displays of flamboyance or frivolity. Unfortunately though his mother was, and in order to appease her he had accepted some of her suggestions.

Still the smallfolk seemed to appreciate it as they screamed and shouted for their blessed Crown Prince. Their cheers if anything being greater than they were for his father.

After another half an hour of riding through the tight narrow streets of King's Landing, waving to the crowds, the column eventually made it into the courtyard of the Red Keep. Or at least the Royal entourage, the Starks and the carriages holding their luggage did. With many of the other camp followers and guards having been sent off to other places in the Capital.

Of course Tytan had barely set his feet on solid earth before a servant had individually approached both the new Hand of the King and himself, summoning the two of them to a Small Council meeting. Eddard Stark had of course been summoned because as Hand of the King, the Small Council served him, all of them acting as councilors who overlooked the running of the Kingdom.

Tytan meanwhile had been summoned to stand in for the King, who very rarely bothered to attend the meetings. Instead shifting the responsibility to Tytan, just like he shifted many of his other responsibilities to his eldest, like holding court, when the fat man was off whoring or hunting.

Of course he justified all of this by saying he was preparing his son for Kingship. Which was of course bollocks, though Tytan did benefit from it as it allowed him the power to make real change. As he had done when he had had the Mountain and his men arrested, castrated and sent to the Wall. Or when he had introduced new laws tightening up the taxation on the wealthy, and protecting the most vulnerable in society.

Plus of course he had also used the positon to his advantage to garner himself more power and influence in the Capital. He might not have been the most political savvy of people when he had lived as Percy Jackson, but seventeen years spent in King's Landing and several centuries in Tartarus had given him the knowledge and the ruthlessness he needed, to not just survive, but to thrive.

Striding through the Red Keep, Tytan soon left Jamie behind, 'to guard the Queen', as he, Ivar, and Ubba instead headed for the Small Council chambers. The rest of his personal guard overseeing the servants as they unpacked the baggage. Which was also an excuse for them to sit around drinking wine and chatting.

Using the many shortcuts Tytan knew through the castle, he was quickly able to make his way to the Small Council Chambers. His entrance to the room being less than flamboyant as he simply walked in, not bothering to knock and barely bothering to acknowledge the other men present.

To many this would seem rude, but for those there none of them batted an eye at his actions. After all it was not a hidden secret that all of the people there disliked the others.

For example there was Lord Varys, who was a short plump eunuch with pale skin, and a shaven head, who sat on the Council as the Master of Whispers. Who was also known as the 'Spider', an untrustworthy and backstabbing man who spied on the Seven Kingdom's enemies, its allies, its nobility, its commonfolk and even its Royalty. On top of which the man was a known foreigner, which to some of the more xenophobic Westerosai, was just as bad as him being the King's spymaster.

Then there was Renly Baratheon, the King's younger brother and a spineless man who pandered to the Tyrells and shirked his duties. The man sat on the Council as the Master of Justice, was known at Court as both a closet homosexual and for the sheer lack of effort or interest he showed in fulfilling his responsibilities. Not that the first part bothered Tytan, he was the child of Greek Gods after all, his ineptitude did.

To the other members of the Small Council and to the rest of the Court, the man was inept and a waste of space. In fact Tytan only tolerated him because he is family, and also because his lack of control over the Goldcloaks, the city Watch, allowed the Prince to impose his own control and influence on them.

After that there was Pycelle, a doddering old man who had served as Grand Maester to the Seven Kingdom for many decades. Of course the man was also known as Tywin Lannister's man, Pycelle having sold his loyalty off to House Lannister many years ago when he had betrayed the Mad King, Aerys Targaryen, and had allowed the Lannister armies into the Capital. Suffice to say the man was not at all trusted and was very much disliked by everyone present.

The next member of the Council was Petyr Baelish, also known as Littlefinger. The man was the Kingdom's Master of Coin and had been for close to a decade now. He was also known to be a backstabbing weasel who one could never trust. Luckily though Tytan had a beneficial relationship with the man, mainly due to the fact that after Tytan had joined the Council he had noticed discrepancies in the way Crown's treasury was handled.

Now Tytan was not a genius with numbers, but he was cynical enough and experienced enough to know when someone was playing the system. Suffice to say a bit of violence later and Tytan and his men had retrieved Littlefingers ledgers. Which the Prince had had a trusted Maester look over for him. Which of course had revealed the discrepancies and embezzling Tytan had suspected.

Not that Tytan had called the man on it, no, as a teenager he might have. But Tytan was older than he looked and was wise enough to the world to know an opportunity when he saw one. Which is why he now used the stolen ledgers as leverage. On top of which he had also effectively robbed Littlefinger of most of his accumulated wealth and assets, using the threat of execution and the power he held as the Crown Prince and the pseudo commander of the City Watch to do so.

Nowadays Littlefinger was under Tytan's thumb, Tytan's man on the Council and his tool in the Game of Thrones, not that Tytan trusted him. No, he knew the little worm would rip his throat out if given a chance. Which is why Tytan continued to keep the man restricted to King's Landing, and defunct of resources. The Crown Prince using men loyal to him either through honour or because he paid them, to keep the man in line.

Littlefinger for all his talk of true power had missed the most important thing. You could tell lies, you could manipulate people and come up with grand schemes. But take away his gold and the man was nothing, all it would take was for Tytan to lose his temper and run Baelish through with his sword and the man was dead, nothing he said could stop that.

Not that Tytan expected the man to realise that, as he likely still plotted to try and find a way out of his metaphorical chains. Tytan wouldn't of course allow him to do so though, as although he might not be the most subtle of people, he was ruthless enough to see to it that the man wouldn't survive the attempt. He had had safeguards put in place, plus the Baelish knew he only lived as long as he remained useful.

Then after Baelish, there was the final member of the Small Council, Stannis Baratheon, and the Master of Ships. The man had the personality of the Wall, and was as humourless and cold as it too. Despite that though he was competent, fulfilled his duty and was still likely the most liked person on the Small Council. Of course on that day he was most noticeable by his absence.

Tytan of course wasn't exempt, as the men in the room all disliked him too. Renly because the Prince had usurped much of his power on the Small Council, and often dismissed any suggestions the man made about binding House Tyrell to the Crown through marriage. Not that Tytan was that opposed to the match, but mainly he got irritated by the man's fawning over another House over his own. Tytan didn't appreciate disloyalty.

Pycelle disliked Tytan because he deliberately ignored the man and went over his head, Tytan making it clear to the old man that he neither liked him nor trusted him.

Varys's reasons were not quite as well known, however it was assumed by the way they barely interacted that the two were not on favourable terms. Or at least that was what Tytan assumed, as the bald man was the hardest on the Council to read.

Baelish's reasons for hating the Crown Prince were pretty obvious. The Prince after all had Baelish by the balls, not that any of the Council knew why. However they all knew that the Prince had something on Littlefinger, something that enforced his compliance, which is why Baelish always seconded and supported whatever proposal the Prince made. Of course Varys knew what these reasons were, just as he knew that the men who guarded Baelish's brothels, and the man himself were all in the Prince's employ. Who ironically enough were probably paid them with the gold he had forcefully taken off Baelish.

Then finally there was Stannis, whose dislike for his nephew stemmed from the Prince's former frivolous ways, his drinking and his whoring reminding Stannis very much of his brother Robert. Which of course meant Stannis often linked his dislike of Robert to his nephew, who he saw as little more than a carbon copy of Robert. A selfish, irresponsible, whore-mongering drunk.

"So a question." Tytan began as he looked around at the assembled Councilors, the Prince having taken the seat the King should have occupied as he did so. The dark haired man letting out a faint sigh of contentment as he leant back into the cushioned chair. "Why has the Small Council been summoned, Stark and I have barely been in the Capital an hour?"

"Yes, however after your absence for the last five months and because of the arrival of the new Hand, it was believed that the sooner a meeting was called the better." Varys replied softly, feigning a short bow to the Prince as he did so, though the action looked more like a slight incline of the head than anything.

Tytan nodded abruptly at that, understanding the reasoning, even if he would have preferred to have had a spot of dinner and an early night. "Fine, and where is Stannis."

"He's gone back to Dragonstone to sulk, he left around the same time you and the King did." Renly replied blandly, the young Baratheon disliking Stannis as much as he did his other brother and Tytan.

"Yes, however in the absence of both yourself, the King, Lord Arryn and Stannis, the rest of the Council has endeavored to make sure the Kingdom ran smoothly." Baelish spoke up, a tight smile on his weasel like face as he did so.

Tytan narrowed his eyes as he heard that. He had of course received the occasional raven from those loyal to him in the Capital, informing him of what was going on and what his enemies were up to. However meeting Baelish's cold gaze, the Prince decided he would have to check to make sure what had been reported was true. Sometimes keeping the man alive was more trouble than it was worth.

"Yes well now that we have returned, we can once again begin looking to the future. The Kingdom can only stagnate for so long after all." Tytan replied stiffly, a part of him wishing he was as skilled with his words as he was with his sword. Unfortunately though he was not the most eloquent of people, nor was he the most subtle when it came to verbal jousting.

Settling into his chair, Tytan then proceeded to wait patiently for Ned Stark to arrive, both Ivar and Ubba standing silently at the side of the room. Fortunately without the Hand or the King in the Capital the Small Council was able to bring forward no new laws or initiatives. Which meant that Tytan likely didn't have any damage he would need to undo, so this meeting should not go on long to long. After all these meetings were often monotonous and boring, however they were also very important in regards to the running of the Kingdom.

Which was important for Tytan to experience, after all a King couldn't just be a good warrior, he had to also be a skilled Politian and a wise ruler. Someone who wasn't just able to lead his men into battle, but could also lead his Kingdom in times of peace. Which of course necessitated battles of words as oppose to battles of armies. With this being something his father did not excel in.

After a few minutes of awkward and uncomfortable silence, the door to the Chamber eventually opened and Lord Eddard Stark, the new Hand of the King, and the Warden of the North entered the room. Unaware of the pit of snakes he had just entered.

"Excuse me my Lords," Eddard said as he entered the room and walked towards his seat at the front of the table, his stoic grey eyed gaze surveying the people in the room, including all of the advisors and Tytan's two guardsmen. His eyebrow raising slightly as he saw the Crown Prince was present, Eddard having not noticed that he was summoned for the meeting as well.

"I apologize for being late." Eddard continued as he took his seat and leant his hands on the wooden table top, his gaze once again surveying those present, "Where is Ser Barristan? Is he not the Lord Commander? And Stannis, was he not named the Master of Ships?"

Varys smiled as he heard that, before he lowered his head in a short bow, "Ser Barristan is the Lord Commander, but due to his previous relationship with the last King, it was thought best that he should not be put on the Small Council. As for Lord Stannis, I'm afraid he has departed the Capital and we've been unable to get in contact with him ever since."

Ned's nodded as he heard that, his brow furrowing as he thought about the reasons behind the absence of Lord Stannis, "Is that so Lord...?"

"Varys." Varys replied softly, his tone unctuous as he gave yet another bow, "And I am no Lord."

Ned nodded at that before he proceeded to give greetings to the other Lords, all of whom he recognised. With his greeting to Renly being friendly and open, whilst his greeting to Baelish and Pycelle was slightly frostier. Ned mentioning old slights as he did so, the Stark Lord being almost as blunt as Tytan when it came to dealing with them. However unlike the Crown Prince, Eddard didn't have the power, ruthlessness or influence to back up his words. Not yet at least.

Not noticing his poor first impression, Eddard instead decided to get to the matter at hand. The Northern Lord being distinctly tired and uncomfortable after the long journey. With this meeting being the last thing he was interested in doing. "So what are the matters for today my Lords?"

In response Varys withdrew a scroll from the folds of his long sleeved robe, before he passed it on down the table to the Hand, "The King has instructed us to stage a tournament to celebrate your appointment as Hand of the King."

"Another one?" Tytan asked, an amused look on his face. Of course the fat man had ordered a tournament, his father did love them so. Not that Tytan could judge as he was also a fan of the jousting and the melee, as well as the pageantry and the celebrations involved. The entire city became festive during a tournament.

Ned frowned as he heard that before he looked down at the scroll in his hands and began to read off aloud the prizes for the winners, "Forty thousand gold dragons for the champion, twenty thousand to the runner up, twenty thousand to the winner of the melee and ten thousand for the winner of the archery?"

Grand Maester Pycelle turned his head towards Littlefinger as he heard that, his voice a bit raspy as he asked, "Can the treasury bear such expenses?"

"Hmm, it may require us to borrow the money." Littlefinger replied calmly, his gaze flicking to the still amused looking Tytan, before he opened his ledger, "The Lannsiter's will likely accommodate I suspect, we already owe them five hundred thousand gold dragons, what's another ninety thousand?"

Ned's eyed widened as he heard that, his gaze immediately locking onto the frowning face of Petr Baelish. "Are you saying the Crown is half a million in debt?"

"No it's one and a half million dragons in debt, half a million in debt to the Lannisters and one million in debt to the Iron Bank. However the Crown is working to pay those debts of slowly but surely." Tytan spoke up, cutting Baelish off as he did so. "Fortunately when I joined the Small Council as my father's somewhat permanent representative I brought in a number of Maesters and Accountants to help Lord Baelish with the ledgers."

"Help that was most appreciated." Baelish answered in a seemingly pleasant tone as he gave Tytan a short bow. Even if he was spitting with impotent fury and anger on the inside.

"How could Jon let this happen? It's is all well and good that we are paying it off, but it should never have happened in the first place. Aerys Targaryen before he died had left the treasury overflowing with gold?" Ned said, giving Tytan a brief nod a he did so, before his steely grey eyes locked on Littlefinger. Ned having caught the insinuation he Prince had made.

"Despite our best efforts, his grace hardly listens to wise advice. He does as he pleases. Even Jon Arryn could only do so much." Pycelle spoke up in his raspy voice, before he glanced over at Littlefinger, a gleam of malice evident in his gaze. "Of course poor account keeping by the Master of Coin is just as to blame as the King's lack of restraint. Thankfully though the Council have reigned in Lord Baelish's ludicrous borrowing and have made progress in the direction of rectifying his many mistakes."

"The Master of Coin merely finds the money that the King demands," Littlefinger began to say defensively as he saw the eyes of the other Councilors on him, like crows circling over a fresh corpse, the thin man internally seething at having been put into this situation. A situation he as of yet could not see a way out of, not with him being isolated in King's Landing and bereft of resources. "The Hand is the one who spends the money."

"Yet when you get money you are supposed to get it by raising taxes on the wealthy or the Septs, or by selling off unneeded assets. What you're not supposed to do is just borrow it, only for some of it to be lost in transition." Tytan replied bluntly, not allowing Baelish to worm his way out of this. After all he might not have dragged the man before Robert wit the evidence in his hands. But he would make sure all those in power knew what a useless turd Baelish was. On top of which Tytan was privy to some of the terrible things Baelish had done.

He only needed the man for his voice on the Council and a front for Tytan to build up his own resources, using Baelish as little more than a neutered puppet. A figure head who has no real power, and whose life is only worth what benefit he brings Tytan.

"Yes Jon Arryn gave clear, prudent advice to the King, as did we all." The Grand Maester spoke up once more, "But his Grace never took it into consideration."

Tytan rolled his eyes as he heard that, clearly the man was trying to make himself seem greater and more influential than he really was. But that was just the way with all of the Councilors. They were some of the most powerful men in the Seven Kingdoms, their power and influence only rivaled by Tywin Lannister, Cersei Lannister and Olenna Tyrell. Though of course some off the members, like Renly, Pycelle and Baelish latched onto others to keep and enhance their positions, either willingly in Renly and Pycelle's case, or unwillingly in Baelish's.

"Counting coppers he called it." Renly added in, in a bemused tone as he looked around the room, "Something he was never good at."

Ned immediately began to roll up the scroll back-up, "I will talk to Robert about this. This is an extravagance that we can't afford."

"The man won't listen." Tytan said bluntly as he leaned forward in his chair, just as keen as Ned to end the meeting, but wiser than the Stark Lord as he knew that they would have to make the arrangements eventually, so it would be better to do it now then call another meeting the next day, "We should at least begin making plans about the entire business."

Ned glanced over at Tytan as he heard that, a slight frown passing across his face before he nodded. "Very well we'll make provisional arrangements. I will still talk to Robert about it though."

"That's your prerogative." Tytan dismissed as he shifted in his chair, before he looked over to Varys. "Before we begin making the tedious arrangements though, can you tell me if you have heard any word from the North about the arrest of Roose Bolton?"

Ned twitched as he heard that, his brow furrowing as the Prince brought up Lord Bolton, one of Ned's banner men, and if what the Prince had said was true, a stain on the honour of the North.

Varys nodded his head as he heard that, before he glanced over at Eddard. "The siege of the Dreadfort is over, the keep was taken, though Roose Bolton was killed in the fighting."

Eddard's face tightened up at that.

"Though considering the recently flayed remains they found of some poachers in Lord Bolton's dungeons, and the stories the commonfolk who work at the Dreadfort told, then Roose would likely have had his head taken sooner or later." Varys spoke up dismissively, not really caring about a minor Northern Lord who's vicious bastard son had caused his downfall. The man was meaningless when it came to the game after all, he wasn't either a piece on the board, or at least not anymore.

"Too quick an end if you ask me." Tytan said bluntly, "Still it's over now, I take it Robb has sent his bannermen back home?"

"Yes, and the fort is now being manned by Stark men under the command of Rodrik Cassel." Varys replied easily.

"A good choice," Ned spoke up with a nod of his head, pleased to hear that his son was more than living up to his responsibilities as Lord of Winterfell.

"Yes, well we might as well get on with the arrangements for the tourney." Tytan spoke up again, even if internally he was somewhat proud of his friend Robb.

 **( - )**

 **(Elsewhere within the Red Keep)**

"Ouch," Joffrey complained loudly as his mother gently dabbed some healing salve onto the almost faded bite mark on his forearm.

"Oh don't make such a fuss, the wound is practically healed," Cersei relied brusquely as she finished what she was doing and instead inspected the half dozen faint marks on Joffrey's arm.

"They're ugly. They're never going to be gone entirely," Joffrey complained as he too looked at the faded bite mark.

"Think of them as battle scars, all the great warriors have them. Even Tytan has a couple of scars. You should be proud of them." Cersei said absentmindedly, as she let go of Joffrey's arm and instead sat back in her chair, a strange look on her face as she looked at the petulant expression on Joffrey's face, the words Tytan had spoken to her after the incident echoing in her head. "They show that you are a warrior who faced down a Direwolf. Just like your brother."

"I'm nothing like him. I didn't fight anyone, I just let the beast bite me. What's worse is the two Stark girls saw it," Joffrey snarled back, his anger getting the best of him.

"You are still young, and neither of those girls are credible. You still have time to show the world who you truly are, and one day my son, one day you will be the Lord of Casterly Rock, one of the great Lord's of the land and the brother of the King, and when that happens, the truth will be what you make it" Cersei explained, trying to cheer her son up. She was conscious of the kind of man that her son could grow up to be, and so had decided to try and steer him in the right direction. However he was still her son, and she loved him and didn't want to see him upset.

"So grandfather has agreed then?" Joffrey asked quickly, his eyes now on his mother, a greedy glint now present. "He's agreed to make me his Heir?"

"Not yet, but he will. Your marriage to the Stark girl will help with that. It will provide you with political links to both the North and the Riverlands, and will also mean that you can begin producing Heirs of your own." Cersei replied, a slight frown on her face as she thought of her obstinate father, who so far had not named Joffrey his Heir, despite her requests. It seemed her father and Tytan both thought the same about her son.

"Do I have to marry her? The Stark girl?" Joffrey finally asked, his brow furrowed at the thought of not being given Casterly Rock. After all who else was there to carry on his grandfather's legacy? Jamie was a Kingsguard, Tommen was a weak child, Tyrion was a vile little dwarf and Mycellla was a girl.

"If your Father wishes it and the girl's Father agrees, then yes you must. For the duty of your House, and to become the Lord of the Westerlands, you will marry Sansa Stark. But it isn't all bad, although most marriages are not filled with love, I know that as well as any, there are a few that work out for the better. But if it isn't pleasant, then you like myself and the many before us will likely find some sense of pleasure in your situation," Cersei replied as she saw Joffrey frown again. Thinking of what she had gotten out of her loveless marriage, four beautiful children and Jamie as a lover.

"Do something nice for the Stark girl," Cersei continued as she saw the petulant expression on her son's face. "It's time Joffrey that you begin to grow up and accept the responsibility that comes with your family name."

"I don't want to do anything nice for her," Joffrey whined, feeling like his mother was getting at him. After all she had never spoken to him like this before.

"But you will do it. The occasional kindness will spare you a lot of trouble down the road, and will help win you her heart and the hearts of others. Take it from someone who knows this to be true," Cersei replied patiently.

There was a few moments of silence after Cersei said that, before it was broken by Joffrey letting out an irritated sound.

Hearing that Cersei let out a sigh of her own, lamenting as she did how Joffrey couldn't be easier to deal with, like his brothers and sister.

 **( - )**

 **(Later that evening)**

Collapsing onto his bed, Tytan was barely able to keep himself awake as he buried his head into a silk pillow. The Small Council meeting had dragged on for far longer than he had expected, which combined with how tired he was feeling after the long journey south, meant that the moment he entered his chambers he was ready to crash on his bed and sleep for the next twelve hours.

It was late in the evening by the time they ironed out the last of the details, and for once Tytan was in no mood to drink and make merry. Instead he had dismissed his guards and headed for his bedchambers.

Upon entering he had paused only long enough to shed his fine clothes and hand them on to a Royal servant to wash. After that he had just collapsed onto his bed, ready to sleep.

Which he eventually did as, as soon as his head hit the pillow he had soon drifted off, his mind beginning to wander as he did so. With images starting to appear before him in his sleep.

These visions including those of a large white tree upon a frozen hill, and a dark, dank, bone filled cavern that was underneath it. The cavern and its sole occupant hidden from view by the ancient trees gnarled roots.

He also dreamed of three dragons, flying through the skies. The shadows their mighty forms cast, passing over a mighty walled city in some arid and dry country.

After that he saw a field of ice and snow, through which a vast army of undead men and women marched. Their forms rotting and decaying, some little more than bones held together through the sheer will of their masters.

Then finally the last thing he saw before he woke, the one which struck him most, was the image of striking, young looking girl, with golden brown skin and bronze coloured hair. A slightly mischievous smile on her face as she peered at him from around the trunk of a tree.

That was the last image he saw before he vaulted up in his bed. His breath coming out ragged as he sat up in bed, his body covered in a film of sweat and his green eyes wide.

 **( - )**

 **AN: So what did you all think, I hope you all enjoyed it. Hopefully more of Percy/ Tytan's backstory in Westeros is coming out. As is some of the aspects of his personality that his life experiences in King's Landing and Tartarus have caused.**

 **So other than that, I hope you all enjoyed and leave a comment or a review.**

 **Thanks a lot for reading.**

 **Greed720.**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Hi all, it's me again. I decided as a thank you for all the support my last chapter received, and all the support my readers have given me thus far that I would get this chapter out sooner than I intended.**

 **I hope you all enjoy it, as I had to rewrite a few bits, to get it to the point at which I was happy enough to publish.**

 **Hope you all leave a review at the end.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones.**

 **( - )**

 **(Last Time)**

 _These visions including those of a large white tree upon a frozen hill, and a dark, dank, bone filled cavern that was underneath it. The cavern and its sole occupant hidden from view by the ancient trees gnarled roots._

 _He also dreamed of three dragons, flying through the skies. The shadows their mighty forms cast, passing over a mighty walled city in some arid and dry country._

 _After that he saw a field of ice and snow, through which a vast army of undead men and women marched. Their forms rotting and decaying, some little more than bones held together through the sheer will of their masters._

 _Then finally the last thing he saw before he woke, the one which struck him most, was the image of striking, young looking girl, with golden brown skin and bronze coloured hair. A slightly mischievous smile on her face as she peered at him from around the trunk of a tree._

 _That was the last image he saw before he vaulted up in his bed. His breath coming out ragged as he sat up in bed, his body covered in a film of sweat and his green eyes wide._

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 9**

 **( - )**

 **(In King's Landing a few days later)**

"It's the Hand's Tourney that's causing all the trouble my Lords." Ser Beric Dondarrion, the Commander of the City Watch reported gruffly as he stood in front of the Small Council.

The man, who looked to be in his mid-thirties with cropped brown hair and dark eyes, scowling as he stood before some of the most powerful Lord's in Westeros. His golden helmet held under one of his arms, whilst his gold cloak was swept over his shoulder, the rest of his outfit consisting of similarly gold coloured armour and chainmail, all of which was to be expected from the Commander of the City Watch, colloquially known to many as the Gold Cloaks.

Tytan let out a slight sigh as he heard that, not because he was frustrated with Beric. No in fact he was quite fond of the man, which is why he had seen to it that he was named the Commander of the City Watch. The man was reliable, efficient and loyal to a fault, promoting him to his position had been one of the better decisions Tytan had made.

He was a far better choice that the easily corruptible and untrustworthy Janos Slynt, a fat turd of a man, who Tytan had swiftly booted from any position of power. The man after all couldn't be trusted, and was loyal only to the one who paid him the most. Which for Tytan just didn't work.

No, the reason he was sighing was because of the trouble the tournament was causing. As, for the last few days much of his time had been spent putting out metaphorical fires as he strived to maintain order in a vastly overcrowded city. Often times he had to be called in by Beric or one of his captains to intervene himself when it involved high ranking nobles, Tytan's own position as Crown Prince trumping anyone else position in the hierarchy and allowing him to deal with any issues or problems they might be causing.

Of course when this did happen, Tytan ensured that his irritation with the situation was impressed on the offending nobles when it came to him dishing out the necessary punishment.

"The King's tournament," Eddard Stark interrupted abruptly, a frown on his face as he did so. The Lord Hand being more annoyed that Tytan, due to the fact that he had a lot more to deal with. After all Tytan was occasionally called in to help, Ned meanwhile had had to oversee every aspect of the tournament "I assure you, the Hand wants no part in this matter."

"As you say my Lord, but even so knights have been arriving from all over the realm to participate, and along with them, there's the Lord's entourages, craftsmen seeking work, sellswords looking to enter the melee and many more." Beric continued, his voice filled with frustration as he tried his best to show the Councilors just what he had to deal with. "On top of that, this cursed heat is causing tempers to rise, and has meant that sickness has started to spread in some of the more crowded areas. And all of this is only made worse by all of the visitors to the city. Last night alone we had a drowning, a drunken horse race down the Street of Sisters, an attempted rape, three knife fights and a number of other similar crimes. Including the death of a knight, Ser Hugh of the Vale, the silly bastard, who ended up drinking too much before he fell in a river and drowned."

"Simply dreadful…" Varys commented lightly, his voice filled with false sincerity. Though there was certain gleam in his eyes as he heard of the death of the late Jon Arryn's former squire, Ser Hugh.

"If you can't keep the King's peace Dondarrion, maybe I should find someone else who should." Renly spoke up a scowl on his face, acting in the way that was expected of the Master of Justice, even though all those present knew he held no real power. "Maybe it was wrong to appoint you to the position of Commander, maybe Janos Slynt should be put back into the position."

"Well that might be difficult considering he's been reassigned to sewage duty." Tytan replied dryly, his expression not quite as stern as the others. "Besides in a city of nearly half a million people, crime is something that is just going to happen, no matter what. The only thing we can really do is attempt to mitigate the worst of it, and see to it that the culprits are punished so severely that it will stop others from attempting the same."

Renly frowned as he heard that, but still nodded his head, unable to refute the Prince's words, even if he wanted too.

"I take it the culprits have been caught." Tytan added on, his expression now on Beric.

"Yes my Prince, the attempted rapist has been castrated and will be sent to the Wall. The men involved in the horse race are now spending some time in the stocks. As for those caught fighting within the city limits, they've been imprisoned for now and may be punished depending on what evidence my men find." Beric replied dutifully, knowing that the Crown Prince, although a generous and kind benefactor, expected results. It was one of the things Beric respected about the man, he would never ask you to do something that he himself wouldn't do, but when he did ask you to do something he expected it done right.

"Good, though we'll need to increase the amount of men at your disposal if we are to continue to manage the volume of visitors and the rising crime rates." Tytan spoke up, a slight frown on his face as he drummed his fingers on the table top. "How many men do you have in your command at the moment?"

"Five thousand men my Prince, though half of those are spread over the Crownlands, under the command of trusted captains, with those outside of the Capital working to keep the peace." Beric replied, the number of men under his command having grown since he had become Commander of the Gold Cloaks, with the Prince's patronage. "I also have another three thousand men spread over the rest of the Kingdoms as well, though they are assigned to hunting down bandits and ensuring order on the King's Road."

Tytan nodded at that, eight thousand men, all of whom were trained and loyal, that was something Tytan had ensured. Eight thousand Gold Cloaks loyal only to him and the realm. Plus the other forces he had been building in King's Landing and the Crownlands, it was a lot, but was it enough?

Tytan smiled grimly as he looked over to the other Lords, "Two thousand five hundred men to try and keep the peace in a city filled with at least five hundred thousand souls? That's a tall task."

"You make a good point." Ned finally spoke up, a slight frown on his face as he looked at the Crown Prince. The northern Lord having not quite decided what he thought of the younger man. He seemed decent enough, and he had witnessed the unnatural powers he possessed, powers that had most looking at him as blessed by the Gods. Despite that though there was just something off about him. He had old eyes, and his actions weren't those of a young Prince, but of a hardened leader, one who was used to making the difficult choices. On top of that Ned also got the sense that the Prince didn't particularly like him. "How many men do you need Commander?"

"As many as possible my Lord." Beric replied bluntly as he looked away from the Prince and instead met Ned's stoic gaze, with his own grim look.

"Hire one hundred new men." Ned finally said, glancing over at Renly as he did so, only to be surprised when he saw the man was no longer paying attention, the other man having given up any presence of control now. Not that is mattered, as Ned instead turned to Baelsih. "Lord Baelish will see that you get the coin for it."

Littlefinger was rather surprised by that as he raised an eyebrow in surprise, "I will?"

Ned nodded his head in response, "You managed to find the funds for this entire spectacle. I'm sure you can find a bit more to hire a few more guards."

"Or he might not have to." Tytan spoke up, a slight smile on his face.

The comment garnering him the attention of the rest of the Council, a number of the other men giving him suspicious look. Not that Tytan gave a damn about their opinions.

"How do you mean Prince Tytan?" Varys asked softly, a slight patronizing tone in his voice, "I see no other way to get the needed men to keep the King's peace, you yourself made that quite clear."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't trust a sellsword to run a bath. No I wouldn't want anyone of questionable loyal like a sellsword to be inducted into the Gold Cloaks and given any kind of authority over my people. Instead I'll lend Ser Beric some of my men." Tytan replied with a shrug of his shoulders, "I've got a company of three hundred within the City, some of them the Baratheon guardsmen who my father assigned to my protection. I would be willing to part with a hundred of them for now."

Littlefinger looked up at that, his eyes narrowing. After all those three hundred men were the ones the Prince had guarding Baelish's, now the Prince's, property and keeping an eye on him. If some of them were to be reassigned, it could spell an opportunity for him. "That's quite the large contingent my Prince. I was not aware you needed so many?"

"Well I am the Crown Prince and a representative of the Small Council on my father's behalf." Tytan replied as in answer to Baelish's question, even if it wasn't a particularly enlightening answer. Before without another word he dismissed Baelish and instead looked over to Beric. "So as I was saying, I'll lend you a hundred of my guardsmen for now. If you need more, you can just come to me."

"My Prince." Beric replied with a curt bow.

"I'd lend you more, however many of them have duties to fulfil around the Capital." Tytan added on vaguely, his gaze meeting Baelish's for a moment. His sea green eyes flashing dangerously when he saw Baelish's smirk, instantly suspicious at the look.

Ignorant of this, Ned merely gave Tytan a nod of thanks before he added his own contribution, "And I'll lend you fifty of my household guards to serve with the City Watch until the crowds have left." Ned added as he turned back to look at the Commander of the City Watch.

"Thank you, my Prince, Lord Stark." Beric replied with a short bow of his head to the named men and the rest of the Council, "I shall make sure I put them to good use."

With that said Ser Beric gave another brief nod before he turned and left the room, the two Gold Cloaks who had accompanied him, following after him, after giving their own short bows to the Council.

With that issue settled, Ned sighed before he turned to the other members of the Small Council, "The sooner this is all done with, the better I can sleep."

"Events like these aren't so bad." Varys spoke up softly, an amused look on his face as he saw Ned's reaction, the northern Lord having obviously not gotten used to the bureaucratic nightmare that was running the Seven Kingdom, "They can actually be a rather good source of money, a way for the Crown to continue repaying its debts to the Iron Bank, and the Lannisters."

"Varys is correct my Lord Hand," Pycelle added on, shifting around in his seat as he did so, his aged eyes now resting on the Hand, "The realm prospers from such things. It gives the chance for some to earn glory and the commonfolk a show, a distraction to keep them entertained and happy."

"If done correctly, a tournament can be beneficial to the Crown." Tytan spoke up next, his expression amused.

"Which is exactly what the Lord Hand is doing." Pycelle replied swiftly, his eyes now on the Prince, a hint of distain visible in his gaze.

Ned sighed as he heard that, sensing that the assembled men might be about to descend into squabbling and sniping, again. Which was something he had no time for today, which is why he rose from his seat and gave them all a nod, "I hope you are right Grand Maester, now unless there is any other business I would like to call an end to the meeting today."

After a few moments of silence, Ned proceeded to nod his head and call an end to the meeting. The different members all getting up and beginning to leave, with Varys, Baelish and Renly leaving quite swiftly, none of them hanging around for long.

Tytan himself also stood up quite quickly, his gaze shifting over to the side of the room where his Uncle Jamie was idly leaning. A bored look on his face as he stared off into space, the blonde man having likely zoned out due to the tediousness of the meeting.

"My Lord Hand, till we meet again." Tytan said with a short nod to Ned, getting Jamie's attention as he did so.

"You as well Prince Tytan." Ned replied absently, his attention instead turning to the shuffling figure of Pycelle.

Ignoring that Tytan headed for the door, the armour clad Jamie following behind him. Before he left the room though, he was able to hear Ned calling Pycelle back. Asking for a word about the death of Jon Arryn.

Frowning as he heard that, Tytan paused momentarily before leaving. A part of him somewhat suspicious about what Lord Stark was up to, after all Jon Arryn had been an old man, and had died of a fever. As far as Tytan was aware there was nothing untoward when it came to his death. Which of course begged the question of why Ned Stark seemed to be investigating it?

Ignoring Lord Stark's actions for now though, Tytan instead began to make his way through the hallways of King's Landing. Already planning to head to one of the nicer brothels he had 'liberated' from Baelish, where he knew his men would be waiting for him. The airy and well-furnished brothel being a much more pleasant place to spend his time than in the crowded Red Keep, which at the moment was filled with hurrying servants and visiting nobles.

"So tell me Jamie, do you reckon you'll enter the tourney this year?" Tytan questioned as he weaved his way through the corridors, Jamie following along next to him.

"Maybe in the jousting," Jamie replied in amusement, a slight smile on his face. "After all the competition this time looks like it will be quite entertaining."

"Not the melee?" Tytan replied with a slight smirk.

"Considering how many men there are that wouldn't mind slipping a knife between my ribs, I think I'll give it a miss this year." Jamie replied dryly, exaggerating his unpopularity somewhat. "What of you Tytan, do you think you'll enter both?"

"The jousting certainly, plus I'll give the melee a go too. We wouldn't want someone running off with too much of the Crown's gold after all." Tytan replied a slight grin on his face.

"You make it sound like you would gift the prize money back to the Crown?" Jamie said, a look of disbelief on his face. After all his nephew was a good man, a generous one too, but he wasn't a fool.

"Not freely," Tytan replied vaguely, a ghost of a smile playing around his lips.

"Oh really, and what does that mean?" Jamie asked with a light frown, trying to work out what it was his unpredictable nephew was thinking this time.

"You'll see." Tytan replied still smirking, a slight twinkle in his sea green gaze as he looked over to his Uncle.

 **( - )**

 **(A few days later, with Sansa Stark)**

For Sansa this was a big day, in fact she'd been looking forward to this day ever since she had first come to King's Landing and heard that the King was hosting a tournament in honour of her father becoming the new Hand.

So far King's Landing had lived up to her expectations, sure a part of her missed her pet, Lady, but another part of her knew that the Direwolf would likely be happier back in Winterfell. On top of which Sansa was confident that maybe in a few months, or after she had married Joffrey, that she would be able to have Lady brought back to her. With the Direwolf then, hopefully being fully grown and fully trained.

For now though she was simply excited, excited to see what the day would bring. After all she would finally be able to see all of those noble knights riding their mighty horse and wearing their beautiful armour that would shine and gleam in the midday sun. It was something she had dreamed about since she was a little girl, the handsome knights parading before her, engaging in elegant and honourable combat. All so that they had the honour of naming the tournaments Queen of Beauty. Which incidentally was why she had worn her finest dress this day, and had spent the last few hours making sure she looked as radiant as possible.

Currently both she and her friend Jeyne Poole, the daughter of her father's steward, and Septa Mordane were sat in a box filled with cushioned seats, with many of the high Lords and Ladies of Westeros who had come to watch the tourney. In fact the only slight blight on what was looking to be a perfect day, was the fact that her younger sister, Arya, was also here.

Sansa's plain looking sister having been forced to take a break from her silly little 'Dancing Lessons', to be here at their father's request. Not that Sansa really believed Arya was doing 'Dancing Lessons', her sister had no sense of rhythm and her coordination was atrocious. Still Sansa wasn't going to let someone like Arya spoil her special day, not when the sun was up and the tournament was about to begin.

Speaking of her father at that moment he was sat in the stands just behind her, holding a brief conversation with a sly looking man, with cropped black hair and a thin moustache. Or at least he was before the King's brother, Lord Renly Baratheon interrupted them, engaging them in conversation. Not that Sansa found this particularly interesting.

Especially since the tournament had just started, and the knights had just begun to ride out onto the arena like field.

Looking out over the dusty field, the auburn haired girl and her friend couldn't help but sigh in wonder as they watched the knights ride out astride their might steeds. All of them bedecked in gleaming plate armour, with Lord's and knights from all over the Seven Kingdoms having travelled to take part. Their banners showing their Houses sigil being carried behind them by their squires.

As this was happening a loud cheer rang out, mainly coming from the commonfolk who were watching from some separate very crowded stands, most of them having to stand because of the lack of seats. That's not to say the nobles didn't make their own enthusiasm known, as noble ladies politely clapped and noble men stamped their feet and cheered. For once the rich and the poor being united in their excitement for the event to come.

For Sansa it was obvious to see why they were all so excited, the knights all looked magnificent as they paraded up and down the field, their helmets held under their arms as they continued to enter, a half dozen quickly turning into a dozen, then even more as they rode in one at a time to the cheers of the crowd. The latest entrant being the famous Ser Jamie Lannister, who rode into the arena on a large white horse, his golden plate armour gleaming in the sunlight, his equally golden haired head free from its helmet as he smiled and waved at the crowd. The armour he was wearing being somewhat reminiscent of his Kingsguard armour.

Seeing the man, the one touted to be one of the most handsome men in the Seven Kingdoms, Sansa couldn't help but turn to look at Jeyne and share an excited smile/ giggle, her cheeks going pink at the sight of him.

Before either one of them could say anything though, they were distracted by the trumpets that rang out, the crowd of smallfolk and the nobles who were watching, taking it as a sign to take their seats or quiet down, whilst the armoured men in the field below began to ride off to their lists.

Turning her head, Sansa then watched as the Royal family sat in their own private box. The King slouching in his throne like chair, the stag themed crown on his head and his cheeks already red and flushed from the wine he had been chugging for the last few hours. His thick, dark beard already matted with a mixture of food and wine.

Seeing the fat King, Sansa had to hide a grimace. A part of her not sure how the elegant and beautiful Queen Cersei could put up with being married to such a pig of a man. The man was nothing like the stories her father used to tell her and her brothers, instead he was just some fat, flatulent old man, not that she would tell him that.

Thankfully though his children were better, with Joffrey, her betrothed sitting his own chair a slight smirk on his beautiful face, and his golden hair gleaming in the sunlight as he idly drummed his fingers on the arm of his seat, resplendent as he was in a beautiful red silk jacket and leather breeches. Beside him his younger brother and sister were also sat, both of them dressed respectably, with eager expressions clear to see on their face as they too watched the knights.

Taking her eyes of her betrothed and his younger siblings, Sansa tried to find the dashing Crown Prince, Tytan the Blessed. Despite looking though, the Prince was conspicuously absent from the Royal box, which was a shame as Sansa found him quite pleasant to look at. Not as beautiful as his younger brother, but still good looking. A black stag as oppose to a golden lion.

 **( - )**

 **(With Tytan a few minutes earlier)**

Letting out a slight sigh, Tytan continued to stare off into the distance, a wistful smile on his face as he just gazed into the distance, not looking at anything in particular.

As Tytan was doing this, Matthias, one of his personal guards, was tugging at the straps of the Prince's armour. A slight frown on his face as he tightened some of the buckles around the torso and loosened the ones on the shoulders.

"Oi arsehole, what you thinking about?" Mathias grunted as he looked up and saw his liege Lord was staring into the distance. "You should have your mind on the competition, if you keep on day dreaming you're going to get the shit knocked out of you!"

"Well looks like someone is in a mood today?" Martin, another guardsman, said lightly as he walked over to the two, The Prince's ornate helmet in his hands, the man having to hold the expensive piece of armour carefully as it had two majestic antlers protruding from it, the razor sharp antlers having been crafted from Balerion the Dread's bones, just like the Prince's shield and the hilt of his sword had been.

"Yeah, I mean you do realise that Tytan over there is the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, he could literally have the tongue ripped from your skull for talking to him like that." Ivar said dryly from where he was sat on a nearby crate, a wine skin in one hand as he looked over at the others. The blonde haired man not really doing anything as the Prince had given him the day off, not that he had much else to do but watch the tournament with his mates on a day like today.

"Yeah but Tytan wouldn't do that, after all then he'd have to find someone else to buckle his armour on for him." Matthias replied absently, his brown eyes narrowed as he finished adjusting the Prince's armour. Not really concerned about any potential retaliation from the Prince, after all the man counted him as a friend, and if there was one thing the Prince was, it was loyal to his friends. Which meant that he let things slide that other Lords wouldn't, within reason of course, and as long as there weren't other nobles around.

"Hmm, what?" Tytan asked, as he blinked and looked over to Matthias, a note of curiousity in his voice as he saw the man roll his eyes.

"He was wondering what you were day dreaming about, oh and he called you a piece of goat's turd." Ivar spoke up helpfully, a sly grin on his face as he saw Matthias scowl at him.

"To be fair I just said you were an arsehole." Matthias added on, as he stood up and met Tytan's amused gaze.

"Coming from a dickless wildling like you, I'll take it as a compliment." Tytan replied dryly, not really putting any effort into his counter insult.

"Dickless wildling? I thought you were more inventive that that?" Martin said in amusement as he handed Tytan his helmet.

"Yeah sorry, I've just got my mind on other things. I've been having dreams lately, a recurring one that I keep dreaming about almost every night." Tytan replied absently as he put the helmet to one side.

"Oh really, was it the having sex with a horse kind, or the farting out a fireball kind?" Ivar asked loudly, and with a bark of laughter as he took another swig from his now depleted wineskin.

"I don't know what kind of shit you dream about Ivar, but no, I'm not quite as fucked up as you." Tytan replied a bemused expression on his face.

"Then what was it?" Matthias replied absently as he turned and grabbed the Prince's warhorse, pulling it over from where it had been tied up, fully saddled and amoured, with finely crafted steel armour covering its chest, neck and face.

"A few things really, I dreamt of a large Weirwood tree in the far north and of a skeleton riddled cavern below. On top of which I also saw an army of the dead marching through a frozen tundra and three giant dragons flying over some city in Essos, I think." Tytan replied a slight frown on his face as he looked to his fellow.

"Well shit, that is pretty weird." Ivar finally said, a frown on his face as he leant forward.

"Do you reckon your dream meant anything? Maybe a vision from the Seven?" Martin asked, his mind going back to Tytan's unnatural abilities and the pretty well established fact that it was due to him being blessed by the Gods.

"Maybe, I've had them before, but not for a while." Tytan replied, thinking back to the dreams he used to have as a Demigod. "They could be things that have already happened centuries ago, things that are happening now, or things that may or may not happen in the future. That or they could just be a meaningless dream that felt more real than usual. Though I hope not."

"Why, your dream seems pretty dire?" Matthias questioned, a frown on his face as he gave the Prince a confused look.

Tytan shifted uncomfortably at that, before he shrugged his shoulders. "The last bit of my dream, there was a girl in it."

"Oh ho ho!" Ivar said loudly and with a large grin on his face, "Ok this seems a bit more normal! So what did she look like?!"

"She was strange and beautiful, unnaturally so. I don't think I've ever seen anyone like her before, even now I don't think any words I say could give her justice... she… she was just all consuming… no more than that, she was…" Tytan trailed off, the words dying in his mouth as he tried to describe the girl he had seen in his dreams, even now he wasn't sure whether she could possibly be real. She was enchanting and fascinating, and had seemed to possess an almost inhuman grace.

"Well shit, it seems like you're smitten. I mean I've seen you with dozens and dozens of women, from whores to noble ladies, and even a few peasant girls. But I've new seen you like this, sure you've been fond of some but this, this is different." Martin said a faint smile on his face as he looked down at the slightly younger Prince.

"Bullshit, how can he be in love with someone he's never met, I mean Seven hells she might not even be real!" Ivar said, a confused look on his face.

"I know, but I hope she is. I really want to meet her." Tytan replied softly, his mind going back to the girl, and remembering not only the mischievous smile on her face, but also the look in her eyes, it was one of sadness…

"Of course you do, after all you clearly want to…!" Ivar replied with a grin, before he trailed off as he saw the almost somber look on the Prince's face as he once again stared out into the distance.

Before anymore could be said, the sound of trumpets rang out over the field.

"Shit, looks like it's about to start!" Matthias suddenly cursed as he dragged the horse over. "Come on Tytan, get your head in the game."

Tytan nodded at that, shaking away the thoughts of his dream as he instead hauled himself up in the saddle of his steed, ignoring the horse's muttered curses about having to carry the fully armoured Prince.

 **( - )**

 **(With Sansa a few minutes later on the Tournament Grounds)**

A light gasp left Sansa's mouth as she saw a final armoured knight ride into the field, this one arriving just after the trumpet had sounded. Not that the crowd seemed to care, because upon seeing him and the banner that flew behind him the crowd roared louder than ever. The youngest Prince and Princess went as far as to jump to their feet in their box and cheer loudly. The Queen meanwhile even cracked a slight smile at the sight.

Immediately Sansa could see why the armoured knight received such adulation, after all it was Prince Tytan, and Sansa could safely say he looked magnificent as he rode through the field, clad in gleaming silver plate armour with intricate gold patterns running along the edges. His head currently bear of a helmet, his mane of black hair and his dazzling sea green eyes on full display.

Under one of Prince's arms the he carried an intricate silver helmet, with pale white antlers protruding from the top, whilst in his other arm he held a pale white shield, which had the Baratheon Stag painted on it in bold, black paint.

Just looking at the man, Sansa could see that he embodied everything she thought a Prince should be. He look positively kingly as he rode past her, a slight smile on his face and a twinkle in his sea green eyes as he gave the Royal box a slight nod as he passed. Receiving adulation his two youngest siblings, a gargled shout from his drunken father, and a faint smile from his mother as he did so. Joffrey however noticeably sneered at the sight of his brother parading around, much to Sansa's disappointment.

Though she was sure he had a reason. Putting that out of her mind, Sansa instead turned to watch the proceedings. An excited smile on her face as she saw it had begun.

What followed next was a loud cheer from the crowd as a finely dressed man in the King's colours called the name of two knights, announcing the first tilt of the day. With the first tilt being between Ser Balon Swann, and Ser Meryn Trant, a member of the Kingsguard. Which was over almost as fast as it started as the two men rode to the opposite end of the fields, their squires running over to them with a lance.

Ser Balon resplendent in his silver armour, with his House's sigil, a swan, displayed on his shield. Meryn Trant however was wearing his Kingsguard armour, with the usual gold coloured helmet having been replaced by a different helmet, with this one having a visor.

Despite the lead up to the match though, it didn't last as long as Sansa had expected as Ser Balon scored two broken lances on Ser Meryn chest, and unhorsed him with the third. Effectively winning the match with almost embarrassing ease. Much to the amusement of the nobles and commonfolk alike, who all jeered as Ser Meryn was dragged from the field on a stretcher.

From beside her Sansa could hear Arya's muttered exclamations of glee at the violence of the competition. Not that the elder sister paid her much attention, as she was more caught up in the young Balon parading around the field celebrating his victory. Of course she also heard her father commenting on Ser Balon's style, and questioning whether it would be as effective in a 'real fight', not that she paid much attention to that either.

A number of matches followed this, as the crowd got more and more excited. With the King's crier calling the names of the next two competing knights and the crowd cheering as they rode onto the field, both of them looking proud, noble and confident. After which there was silence as they waited for the tilt to begin, before the crowd once again erupted with noise when it did.

Throughout it all Sansa was star struck, a smile on her face as she saw the noble knights ride onto the field and compete in glorious battle, their long lances held with one arm and their shields with the other. The proud warriors riding fearlessly against each other, each one of them fighting to win the honour of being the tournament champion.

Soon enough though, the number of competitors was whittled down as the jousting progressed through the day and into the midafternoon. With Ser Jamie, Prince Tytan, Ser Balon and Ser Loras Tyrell being the four knights who outshone the others. Each one of them defeating every one of their opponents. With the Prince often unhorsing his opponent with the first strike, much to the enjoyment of the crowd.

Despite that though, or at least to Sansa's untrained eye, she considered Ser Loras, the Knight of Flowers to be the more skilled knight. As each time he rode he did so with grace and elegance, his lances striking true, but lacking the brutality that Ser Jamie and Prince Tytan used.

Sansa almost leapt to her feet and cheered as Ser Loras and Ser Jamie rode against each other, the match being a close one as Loras narrowly defeated Ser Jamie. With his final lance striking the other knight in the head, denting the Kingslayer's helmet, and winning Ser Loras the match. Much to Sansa's pleasure of the younger of the two handsome knights triumphed, a joyful smile on his face as he swept of his helmet and waved to the crowd.

Of course after that Sansa was soon distracted by the presence of Ser Loras Tyrell who, fresh from his victory, took that moment to approach the box she was in, a charming smile on his face as he met her gaze. The elegant knight not even looking winded, despite having just ridden against, and defeated, one of the most famous knights in the Seven Kingdoms.

His soft brown eyes and long flowing hair, coupled with his beautiful features and glorious armour, almost making Sansa swoon as he stopped in front of her. Her eyes widening and a blush forming on her face as he then proceeded to offer her a flower, a beautiful red rose.

"Your beauty is unmatched my lady," Ser Loras said, his voice soft and charming, "But this flower might at least hold some candle to it."

As she took the rose, her cheeks very red now, Sansa was only just able to get out her response, "Thank you Ser Loras."

That for her had been the highlight of the day so far, and it was only made better when she saw the jealous look on Jeyne's face as Sansa brought the rose to her nose so she could smell its sweet scent.

About an hour after that, the final joust of the tournament was set to begin, with Ser Loras Tyrell facing off against Prince Tytan Baratheon, who just twenty minutes before had narrowly defeated Ser Balon Swann. The other Knight having broken two lances on Tytan's chest, before the Prince had finally prevailed. Delivering a brutal blow that shattered his lance on Ser Balon's helmet, and nearly unhorsed the older knight.

Looking on with giddy smiles on thier face, Sansa, Jeyne and Arya all watched as the two mounted knights faced off. Ser Loras atop his pale white horse, a smug smile on his face as he took his helmet from his squire and put it on. Covering his handsome features with an intricate silver helmet, which had golden flower like patterns coiling around it.

Tytan however, was astride his giant black steed which even as she watched seemed to be shifting around strangely, a slight frown on his face as he too pulled on his antlered helmet. Before with a call of "Lance!" one of his guardsmen ran over with one of the Prince's black and gold painted lances. The slightly familiar looking guardsman, one who she vaguely recognised as one of Tytan's swornswords, struggling to carry the fourteen foot, wooden lance over to his Prince.

The Prince however barely flinched as he took it in one hand, holding it as easily as a child might a stick. As this was happening Loras too had taken his lance, only with his being slightly shorter than the Prince's.

"Ready!" The King's crier shouted, as the crowd went silent. "Now!"

The second the word left the man's mouth, both the horses sprang forward, the two knights astride them leaning forward in their saddles and lowering their lances as they neared each other. Leaning forward herself, Sansa once again noted that Ser Loras seemed to have the better form, as the Prince looked like he was having a bit of difficulty controlling his horse, which in turn caused the tip of his lance to waver in the air.

From beside her Sansa almost jumped as she heard her father speak up, "It seems Ser Loras's mare is in season, a dishonourable trick, but one that will likely work."

"Ser Loras wouldn't do that." Sansa protested as she watched the two men closing in on each other. "He's and honourable man."

Her father didn't reply to that, as he instead watched the two jousters clash, both of them managing to strike the other in the chest, though the Prince's lance seemed to glance off, failing to break as his horse yet again shifted about causing his lance to falter at the last second.

Sansa bit her lip as she saw this, a part of her fearing that her father's comment about Ser Loras's integrity had merit. After all there did seem to be something wrong with the Prince's horse, and she had seen him ride before during the journey south, and as such knew he was a skilled horseman.

During next tilt when the two rode at each other once more, Loras once again managed to deliver a clean strike against Tytan, his lance shattering as it made contact with the Prince's pauldron, almost knocking the Prince of his mount. Tytan's lance however missed altogether, as his horse bucking, throwing his aim off and making it glance off of Ser Loras's shield, the wooden spear failing to break yet again.

"It seems like the Prince is about to lose, unless of course he manages to unhorse Ser Loras in the next tilt." Ned said, an strange look on his face as he watched the jousting. "But he put up a good fight, unfortunately though Ser Loras was the trickier fighter."

"Is what he's doing against the rules?" Arya spoke up a slight frown on her face.

"No, it is a low trick, but not one that breaks any rules." Eddard replied, knowing as he did that he would never use a trick like that, or at least not in an exhibition fight like this one, where the only thing at stake was a person honour and a bit of gold. Still he could appreciate the finesse of Loras's actions, underhanded as they were.

As Eddard said that the two competitors turned to do their last tilt, with the Prince noticeably leaning down and apparently muttering something to his horse. Not that it would do him any good, or at least that was what Ned thought. After all unless the Prince could somehow miraculously change the gender of his horse he was going to lose, and despite him possessing unnatural abilities gifted to him by the Gods, that was not one of them. Or at least Ned didn't think it was.

A few moments later though, as the two armoured men rode for their last and final tilt, the Prince's horse was noticeably calmer. Allowing the Prince to get off another strike, this one hitting Loras straight in the chest and almost unhorsing him. Almost being the operative word as Loras managed to both stay on his horse and break his own lance on Tytan's chest, narrowly winning himself the match, and making him the champion of the tourney.

"Well it looks like that's it, for today at least." Ned said as he looked down at his daughter. "Though we still have the melee and the archery tomorrow."

"Will we be going to the feast?" Sansa asked as she too made to stand up, her eyes still on Ser Loras as he rode around the field, celebrating his victory. The shine for Sansa having somewhat disappeared after hearing of the noble knights deceit.

 **( - )**

 **AN: So what did you all think, I didn't want to drag the tourney out so will likely finish it next chapter so I can progress the story more. Still I'm looking forward to writing the melee, after all Tytan will likely need to release his anger after being cheated like that.**

 **So I am sure some people noticed a few changes already as I begin to show the impact Tytan's presence has had on the South. Something I was quite eager to do, but didn't want to rush as I wanted to have his character and some other characters fully established first. Still there are changes that are noticeable in both this chapter and the last. I am sure many people have noticed them, and some may realise what that could mean for canon.**

 **Also there were quite a few people attempting to guess who the girl from the dream is. I can quite safely say that no one has guessed correctly yet, though I encourage you to keep trying if you want.**

 **Thanks for reading and I hope you leave a review.**

 **Greed720**


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Hey everyone it's me again, here with the next chapter of The Last King. Have to say I appreciate all the support I've been given so far.**

 **This chapter took me a while actually, as I found parts of it quite difficult to do. Either way here it is and I hope you all like it as it took me a while.**

 ** **As always if you have any comments or suggestions feel free to PM me and I'll get back to you.****

 ** **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones.****

 **(Last Time)**

 _As Eddard said that the two competitors turned to do their last tilt, with the Prince noticeably leaning down and apparently muttering something to his horse. Not that it would do him any good, or at least that was what Ned thought. After all unless the Prince could somehow miraculously change the gender of his horse he was going to lose, and despite him possessing unnatural abilities gifted to him by the Gods, that was not one of them. Or at least Ned didn't think it was._

 _A few moments later though, as the two armoured men rode for their last and final tilt, the Prince's horse was noticeably calmer. Allowing the Prince to get off another strike, this one hitting Loras straight in the chest and almost unhorsing him. Almost being the operative word as Loras managed to both stay on his horse and break his own lance on Tytan's chest, narrowly winning himself the match, and making him the champion of the tourney._

 _"Well it looks like that's it, for today at least." Ned said as he looked down at his daughter. "Though we still have the melee and the archery tomorrow."_

 _"Will we be going to the feast?" Sansa asked as she too made to stand up, her eyes still on Ser Loras as he rode around the field, celebrating his victory. The shine for Sansa having somewhat disappeared after hearing of the noble knights deceit._

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 10**

 **( - )**

 **(With Tytan, in King's Landing)**

Gripping the hilt of his sword tighter, Tytan let out a loud shout as he swung it round. The dulled blade clattering against another fighters armour, winding the man and folding him over, but not causing any real damage. After all the idea of the melee wasn't to slaughter people. Or at least that wasn't the people's intention, however accidents could happen.

Swinging his other arm around Tytan then rammed the boss of his round shield into another man, knocking this one clear off his feet. Turning Tytan lashed out again, smashing the hilt of his blade into another opponent's helmeted head. The force of the below denting the side of the man's helmet and knocking him down to one knee, where Tytan finished him of with another punch to the head. The cross guard of his blade this time piercing through the poorly forged helmet and into the sellswords cheek.

Pulling away from the now downed man, Tytan looked around grimly. The entire field was still filled with more than a dozen fighters. This included Lords, knights, sellswords and common thugs, all of whom were able to take part, because unlike the jousting the melee and archery was open to all comers, as long as they could pay some coin to enter.

That being said, commoners tended to not last long in the melee due to the quality of their armour and weapons and their lack of training. Which meant that by this point in the fight it was only really knights left fighting.

"Still up and fighting little man!?" Ubba growled out loudly from behind Tytan, the hulking man easily cleaving through anyone who dared to come near him. Wielding the double bladed axe in his hand like some mad berserker, a sight that was made more realistic by his matted, bloodstained beard which was just visible poking out from underneath the man's helmet.

"Come on Ubba, you know me! It takes more than a couple of pussys to take me down!" Tytan replied cheerfully, lunging out as he did so. His blade aimed at a nearby opponent, a wealthy one by the looks of it, one who was wearing expensive plate armour and had a pot like helmet on his head.

Raising his sword in response to the Prince's attack the man tried to strike at Tytan at first. Wildly swinging as he attempted to slam his blade into the Prince's antlered helmet, a blow which if it landed would daze the Prince but not kill him. Of course that was if the blow ever landed.

Unfortunately for the other knight though his plate armour, despite giving him a great amount of protection was also heavy and inhibited his movements. Which meant that Tytan was easily able to lunge forward and drive his sword up and into the man's less armoured armpit. His blunted blade causing the man to cry out and drop his sword, only for him to be finished off by another fighter slamming a blunted war axe into the back of his head.

"And there I was thinking that you'd been taken down by just a single pussy?" Came the mocking voice of Ivar as he slammed his amoured foot into the knights back causing him to fall forwards with a groan. The blonde cheerfully swinging his axe about, as he then approached the other two.

"Funny." Tytan responded dryly, before he turned and swung his left arm out. Using his unnatural strength to slam his shield into another fight, knocking him clear off his feet and leaving him open for Ubba to slam his battleaxe into the man's breast plate. The blunt axe leaving a large rent in the sheet of metal, and no doubt breaking a couple of ribs as it did so.

"You're the one that's obsessing over some random bird you've never met." Ivar replied with a grin, the quick witted blonde dashing forwards as he said this. Taking advantage of his lighter armour to out maneuverer his more heavily armoured opponents.

With Ivar like Tytan having gone for a helmet, and a chainmail hauberk with a steel cuirass over the top. With this being complimented by steel gauntlets and greaves to protect both the forearms and shins.

Unlike Tytan who'd gone for the classic sword and shield combo though, Ivar had gone for a large one handed war axe and a short sword. The sly man having found such weapons useful as it allowed his to hook an opponent's shield down with his axe, which left an opening for him to sliding his short sword into the gap.

With that being something which he displayed right then and there as he, Tytan and Ubba, the only ones of their group involved in the melee, engaged another group of four men. These ones all working together and wearing tabards which displayed the Golden Rose of House Tyrell. With a single man in the middle of the group wearing gilded, golden coloured armour and a helmet which had a pretentious blue and white plume coming out of the top.

This man, no doubt being that prick Loras Tyrell, was someone who the Prince and his men had a grudge with at the moment. Not just because he had defeated the Prince in the jousting though, no if he'd done that fair and square than they would have bought him a drink, no it was because he had cheated, and had thus cheated Tytan's men out of the gold they'd bet on their Prince.

Darting forwards Ivar hooked the shield of the first man down, leaving an opening for Tytan to ram his sword through. His blade striking the other knight in the throat. Causing a lot of damage, but nothing fatal as the other man's gorget, a strip of metal that protected the throat, saved him from the worst of it.

Not pausing for an instant, Tytan then bulled passed the other man and rammed his shield into the second, making him stagger back and into the gaudily armoured Loras. Which Tytan then used to his advantage as he swung his sword around and cleaved the last of Loras's guards down.

Ubba then rushed in after that, slamming the blade of his axe into the barely recovered knight that Tytan had shield checked as he did so. Ubba's blow nearly lifting the other man clear off his feet as he let out a cry of pain and went flying backwards. Ubba following through with his assault, as the then slammed his armoured boot down onto the man's damaged breastplate and rammed the pommel of his axe into the man's helmeted head.

Not batting an eye at this Tytan by this point had instead engaged Loras in battle. Both of their blades moving swiftly as Loras took the fight to Tytan, his skill far above average as he whipped his sword around to bear on the Prince.

Unfortunately though his skill paled in comparison to Tytan's, and his strength and stamina could not compete with the Blessed Prince. Which meant that after about thirty seconds of clashing swords, and artful footwork, Tytan managed to slam the hilt of his sword into Loras's head. Before following it up by grapping the stupid plume of feathers coming-out of his helmet, which he then used to drag Loras's head down, where Tytan's armoured knee met it with a nasty crunching sound. The visor of Loras's helmet breaking away from the force of the blow.

"And I've not fallen for some random bird!" Tytan replied as he unleashed another armour punch to Lora's head, before he allowed him to slump to the ground. With that done Tytan then raised his gauntleted fist into the air, acknowledging the cheers of the watching crowd as he did so. "I've fallen for a woman of such beauty that it would shrivel your little mind just to set eyes on her."

"Bollocks!" Ivar replied enthusiastically as he too turned and waved to the crowd. "That's absolute horseshit and you know it."

"Ok she is some random girl I've never met, but she was beautiful and mysterious." Tytan responded easily, looking around the field as he did so and noticing that the three of them were the last ones standing. Which meant that since they were all wearing the Prince's colours that they could either fight it out for the prize money or share it.

"Aren't all women beautiful and mysterious in their own way?" Ubba suddenly spoke up, pulling off his helmet as he did so, and pushing his sweated drenched mane of hair back from his face as he did so.

Both Tytan and Ivar looked at the big man in surprise as they heard that.

"Well shit that sounded almost intelligent!" Ivar called out, as he too took his helmet off. Sheathing his short sword as he did so and leaning his axe against his shoulder.

"Hey I'm smart." Ubba grunted back, a slightly offended look on his face.

"You can't even read!" Ivar replied, a sudden look of glee on his face as he saw he was getting under Ubba's skin.

"You do know the big guy here could crush your skull like a grape if he wanted to, don't you?" Tytan asked, an amused expression on his face as he too sheathed his sword. After all it looked like they would be sharing the prize money, which was something the watching crowd seemed to realise as they continued cheering and shouting out the Prince's name and his victory.

"Yeah, but what does that matter when he can't even swim." Ivar replied cheerfully.

"That doesn't even make sense!" Ubba shouted.

Hearing this Tytan merely rolled his eyes at their bickering, before he looked around at the crowd. Noting as he did that his mother and Uncle were both applauding him from the royal box, with Myrcella and Tommen jumping up and down in excitement as they too cheered him on. He could also see his father drunkenly shouting out his name and his victory, looking barely conscious as he sloshed his wine over himself.

Seeing this Tytan rolled his eyes, before he raised his hand again, causing another roar from the crowd, both commonfolk and nobles alike, as they all stood and cheered for him. Many of them beginning loudly chant his name, much to his pleasure as he took his black antlered helmet off, showing his cheerfully smiling face to crowd, before he thrust his helmet into the air. The action garnering him even more cheers and adulation from the crowd as he did so.

Life was good.

 **( - )**

 **(Around the same time, in Essos)**

Daenerys Targaryen, a pale skinned girl, with silver hair and violet eyes let out a slight groan of discomfort as she shifted slightly on her mount. Her thighs aching from the unfamiliar feeling of riding a horse for hours on end.

Grimacing slightly at the ache, Daenerys took the opportunity to glance behind her and look at those following her, the Dothraki. A group of borderline savage warriors, who usually had long greasy hair, dark eyes and tanned skin. Often wearing leather tanned from the skins of their dead horses, and carrying bows and curved swords. They were brutes and killers, men who lived for battle and raiding.

Unfortunately though they were also now her people, whether she liked it or not. It was a cruel fate, especially for one of the last two Targaryens, the last members of a Royal House that had once ruled over Westeros for centuries. Before they were brutally usurped by the violent and volatile Robert Baratheon for imagined sleights.

Currently Daenerys was riding her pale white horse through the great grass sea, a vast plain of long grass that the roving bands of Dothraki regularly travelled. Riding just ahead of her, with his Bloodriders was her husband, Khal Drogo, the leader of a vast Khalasar of forty thousand strong, and someone she had barely spoken half a dozen words too.

Drogo was someone she had only met recently, but who she had been given to as a wife by her brother in return for the Khal's help in retaking the Iron Throne of Westeros for her family. Not that she had much choice in this, as she was instead expected to just grit her teeth and bear it.

Riding just behind Daenerys was her older brother, Viserys Targaryen, a tall, skinny man, with a slightly gaunt face, long silver coloured hair and violet eyes, which burned with hidden rage and madness. Though considering he had been forced from his home and had become known as the Beggar King, due to his constants attempts to sell off family treasures and recruit people to his cause of retaking the Iron Throne for his family, this was not too surprising.

At the moment the would-be king did not look pleased, though that might be because Khal Drogo, had not yet paid Viserys back for the Daenerys hand in marriage. Not that the Iron Throne of Westeros would be an easy prize to get, even for a Khalasar as large as Drogo's.

Riding beside Viserys, was one of his newest associates, Ser Jorah Mormont of House Mormont. From what Daenerys had learned, Ser Jorah had led once a profitable and happy life in Westeros. One which had been ruined due to his wife's desire for expensive things and extravagant living, and his own willingness to indulge her, to the point where it was only possible to provide her these expensive things by get into the business of slavery. A practice which was illegal in Westeros and which had led to the shaming of his House, and his permanent exile from Westeros under pain of death.

Daenerys grimaced at that thought, disliking the idea of slavery and what it entailed. With it being something that hit a bit too close to home when it came to her current situation of having been bartered to a Dothraki Horse Lord like cattle. Pushing that bitter thought away, Daenerys instead looked ahead, her eyes widening as she saw a large bronze statue of two prancing horses in the distance.

"Vaes Dorthrak, the home of the Horse Lords," Jorah Mormont suddenly spoke up from where he was riding slightly behind her, moving forwards so, so he was now beside her as oppose to her brother. A noticeable move as it put him ahead of her brother, a slight to him, whether he realised it or not.

Not that Daenerys cared too much, things having been quite tense of late, between her and her brother. Instead Daenerys just stared in awe at the two statues in the distance, acting like a gateway of sorts, to the sprawling settlement that she could just about see behind them.

Unlike Daenerys though, her brother was less than impressed at the site of the Dothraki's sacred land.

"It's a pile of mud. Mud and shit with some twigs. This is the best these savages can do?" Viserys remarked bluntly, uncaring of any offence he might cause. After all he was sure none of the Dorthraki could speak the common tongue of Westeros, and even if they could what would they do to him? He was a King after all, and they were little more than savages.

"These are my people now. You shouldn't call them savages brother," Daenerys replied to her brother, ignoring the fact that she actually shared his sentiments about the Dothraki. After all she was still angry at having been forced into his situation to begin with, one that was made only bearable due to her gaining some measure of freedom from her domineering brother.

"I'll call them whatever I like, because they are my people little sister. Just as this is my army, an army that Khal Drogo is marching the wrong bloody way!" Viserys replied sharply, before he rode ahead of Daenerys, spurring his horse onwards and away from her. "We should be taking them to Westeros not to this dung heap!"

Seeing this Daenerys frowned, a look of displeasure on her face at that. Her relationship with her brother having become even more tense and unpleasant than before. Partly because now she was no longer under his thumbs, she was able to see what a toxic, cruel and incompetent person he truly was.

"If my brother were given an army of Dorthraki like this one, do you think he could actually conqueror the Seven Kingdoms?" Daenerys asked Jorah, an impassive look on her face as she looked at the back of her brother as he rode ahead to the front of the column.

Jorah paused as he heard that, looking between the stoic Daenerys and her overly emotional brother, a conflicted expression on his face. Before with a sigh he decided to be honest with the girl.

"The Dothraki are a fierce fighting force, one of the most deadly in the known world. But never before have they tried to cross the Narrow Sea, not in all of the history of their people. In fact they fear any form of water their horses cannot drink, the poison water is what they call the sea." Jorah replied a contemplative expression on his face as he glanced at the girl beside him.

"But if they did?" Daenerys asked turning her gaze back to him. "If they did manage to cross the sea, could they take the Iron Throne?"

"If King Robert was foolish enough to venture out from his keep and meet them in open battle, where the Dothraki thrive with their horses, then yes. However the King for all of his incapability's as a ruler, is a great commander and warrior. On top of which he is advised by men who are equally as skilled if not more so." Jorah replied carefully, judging how much he should tell the girl as he didn't want to get her hopes up, nor did he want to dash them. "So I think it is unlikely that there will be straight up battles that the Dothraki thrive in, which means that any conflict would come down to a battle of attrition. One which would be a lot harder to win, and which could go either way."

"And you know these kind of men?" Daenerys asked, a slight frown on her face as she heard the opinion of the seasoned warrior. Trusting it more than she did her brother's dream filled diatribe about glory and battle, or Illyrio's questionable support.

"Aye. Some of them. I even fought beside a few of them during the Greyjoy Rebellion, and one of them, the Warden of the North, Ned Stark, wants my head." Jorah said straight forwardly, before he paused a slight frown on his face at the thought of Ned Stark. "He drove me from my lands for my...past actions, which resulted in me leaving my home and being exiled here. Despite my thoughts on him though, he is a competent strategist and is fiercely loyal to Robert."

"So he cannot be turned against the Usurper?" Daenerys asked curiously. "Surely others could though? The reign of my family was one of prosperity and for the most part peace. Robert Baratheon however is by your own admission a terrible king, a tyrant. Surely there are those that when they see our banners, will join us in retaking our throne?"

Jorah sighed as he heard that, the young girl having the same distorted view of her family that her brother did.

"The latter days of the Targaryen's reign was one of violence and bloodshed. There are many I believe who would not forget this." Jorah said carefully, before continuing as he saw Daenerys was about to protest. "However Robert is also an unpopular King, and likely does not have the support of all the Great Lords of the land, despite what he thinks. His son however, his son is highly respected, and is someone who I believe nearly every House in Westeros would be willing to follow?"

"His son?" Daenerys frowned, trying to think of who he meant. Before her violet eyes widened slightly. "You mean Tytan Baratheon?"

"Yes, Tytan the Blessed. A man blessed by the gods with unnatural strength and abilities. One who is quickly becoming known as the finest blade in Westeros, and who though not battle tested, would likely have the support of most of Westeros." Jorah replied, thinking back on the Prince as he did so. After all he had only met the boy once, but that was all he had needed to realise that he was unique.

It was the Prince's eyes that did it, they were not natural. They had seemed too old, too experienced, too wearied to belong to a child, like he had been at the time. The Prince was unnatural, Jorah knew that much, just as he had witnessed a display of his abilities at court. More than that though the Prince, for all his cavorting in his younger years, was widely respected. His mother having done a good job of enhancing his reputation and the Prince's skill and charisma having done the rest.

Daenerys frowned as she heard that. She did not know much of the Crown Prince, but she had heard he was a floundering whoremonger like his father, or at least that was what Illyrio had told her.

"Is there any truth to those words?" Daenerys asked, before frowning again as she saw Jorah nod.

"Once when I was in the capital, I witnessed him manipulating water. It was like nothing I had ever seen before," Jorah replied simply, his mind going back to the Prince, who had been a young boy back then, and the things he was capable of.

"And he is completely loyal to his father?" Daenerys asked.

"I'm not sure, I never was involved in the goings on of the inner court. Though from what I've heard he and his father have a strained relationship." Jorah answered honestly.

"So he could potential turn on his father and ally himself with us?" Daenerys questioned, pondering whether Tytan would be as traitorous as his father or whether he would stand by his families old oaths if he was called upon. After all a man blessed by the gods would surely have a sense of honour, honour enough to recognise the fealty his family had sworn to hers centuries ago.

"I doubt it, he is the Crown Prince after all." Jorah replied abruptly, not at all sure what Daenerys was thinking. In what world would a powerful man, a royal, surrender his position because of some oath his family were forced to swear under duress centuries ago?

Daenerys frowned as she heard that, but didn't say anymore as she instead looked ahead, her eyes locked on distant form of Vaes Dorthrak.

Life it seems had just gotten a lot more complicated.

 **( - )**

 **(With Ned Stark in King's Landing)**

A frown passed across Ned's face as he wandered through the streets of King's Landing, a number of his guardsmen following closely behind him, their hands on the hilts of their swords. As he walked through the hot and crowded streets, he couldn't help but think of his investigation over the death of Jon Arryn and his recent conversation with Grand Maester Pycelle a while ago.

 **(Flash Back)**

 _"I have to say, I can't stand this heat. On days like this, I envy you Northerners with your Summer snow." Grand Maester Pycelle grumbled as he pushed himself to his feet, before he started to slowly trudge his way to the door. Where the old man could see most of the other Councilors had already left, leaving only himself and Ned Stark in the room. "Until tomorrow my Lord Hand."_

 _"Actually Grand Maester, I was hoping to talk to you about Jon Arryn?" Ned Stark suddenly spoke, causing Pycelle to stop moving as he instead frowned and turned to fully face the Hand of the King._

 _"Lord Arryn? Well, his death was a great sadness to us all. I took personal charge of his care early on, but alas I could not save him. The sickness that struck him, well he was an old man, and it hit him very hard. Very hard indeed. And very fast. I actually saw him in my chambers just the night just before he passed away." Pycelle said solemnly as he looked over at Ned. "Lord Arryn often came to me for council on what he considered to be delicate matters, something you yourself are more than welcome to do as well."_

 _"You have my thanks Grand Maester." Ned replied, not that he would ever come to the old man for advice of course, even he could see the man was untrustworthy and self-serving. "Though may I ask what council he sort from you that day?"_

 _"Well, from what I recall of the night in question, Lord Jon Arryn was inquiring strangely enough about a book that was in my possession," Pycelle explained, the slightest hint of discomfort entering his tone as he shifted about, his gaze on Ned._

 _"A book? What book did he ask about?" Ned inquired, curious about what this book was and whether it had anything to do with his death. After all, recent events had caused him to question the facts surrounding it._

 _"Ah, I fear it would be of little interest to you my Lord. A ponderous tomb few have ever taken up to read since it was written, in fact it's more of a record book then anything," Pycelle replied dismissively, already turning to make his leave._

 _"No. I would like to read it. If Jon thought it was an interesting read, then I would like to see it too," Ned spoke up, his eyes narrowing as he saw Pycelle reluctantly turn around his discomfort more obvious now._

 _With a sigh the Grand Maester then nodded his head, gesturing for Ned to follow him as he led him to his office. Which was very close to the Tower of the Hand, before he handed over the book in question. A very thick tome, one which Pycelle clearly struggled to lift._

 _"Why would Jon Arryn be interested in this book? It's a record of all the noble families of Westeros, both past and present?" Ned asked, a confused expression on his face as he tried to work out just what Jon had been up to before he died._

 _"As I said my Lord, it is a ponderous read for such a needless tome. It was collecting dust for some time prior to Jon Arryn wanting to read it." Pycelle said, once again trying to dismiss the importance of the book, as he walked over to his chair and sat down._

 _"Did Jon Arryn even mention why he wanted the book in the first place?" Ned asked, only to pause as he saw Pycelle shaking his head no._

 _"He did not my Lord. I did not presume to ask. I felt it wasn't my place to inquire about his sudden curiosity." Pycelle answered._

 _"_ _Maybe he was looking for a bit of light reading…" Pycelle continued, before he let out a dry chuckle._

 _"Just before Jon died, did he say anything in his final hour of life?" Ned asked hoping to find some clue of what he had been up to, and whether it had anything to do with his death. Ignoring Pycelle's tasteless joke as he did so._

 _"Nothing of real importance my Lord. But, there was one phrase he kept on repeating to me, and to Robert and the Prince when they came to visit. Something he kept saying over and over again. I believe it was 'the seed is strong.' and he was looking off into the distance. As if he saw something in that final hour that I could not," Pycelle answered, sitting up straighter as he said that, his eyes narrowing._

 _Ned meanwhile frowned as he heard that, not at all sure what to make of Jon's last words._

 _"The seed is strong?" Ned questioned while looking at page he was reading in the book. "Do you have any idea what it could mean Grand Maester?"_

 _"Oh, the dying mind is usually a deluded and demented one. For all the importance they are given, last words are usually as significant as their very first sentences as an infant in terms of trying to understand them. Sadly, Lord Arryn's last few words in that final hour make no more sense to me then a baby saying his or her first sentence," Pycelle continued simply, once again dismissing the importance of Jon Arryn's last words, just like he had his interest over the book. "I wouldn't pay any mind to them Lord Hand, I know King Robert did not."_

 _"And you are quite certain he died of a natural illness?" Ned suddenly asked, with Pycelle looking up at him quite sharply as he heard that._

 _"Of course. What else could it have been?" Pycelle asked a frown on his face, as he gave Ned a suspicious narrow eyed look._

 _"Poison perhaps?" Ned asked, the weapon of an honourless coward, one who struck from the shadows._

 _"A disturbing thought to be sure. But...no. No. No. I don't think poison is likely the case here. The former Hand was loved by all. What sort of man would want to do that to Lord Jon Arryn?" Pycelle asked shaking his head as he did so, his tone quite certain this time._

 _"I have heard that poison is often described as a woman's weapon, a subtle thing, one which most often goes unexpected," Ned replied, a gauging look on his face._

 _With Pycelle easily conceding that fact._

 _"Yes. Women, cravens, and eunuchs are the ones who use such means to kill. Did you know Lord Varys is a eunuch?" Pycelle questioned offhandedly at the end, his eyes once again narrowed as he looked up at the Hand._

 _"Everybody knows that," Ned said before he turned to leave, the book under one of his arms as he gave Pycelle a nod and thanked him for his assistance._

 **(End of Flashback)**

After that conversation, Ned had taken to reading the book in his spare time. He had also intensified his investigation. Which had led to him discovering that Stannis and Jon had apparently been talking more than usual of late, in small clandestine meetings. Ones he only found out about due to Lord Varys. Whose sources also told him that Jon Arryn had also visited many places in Kings Landing, including a certain armourer and one of the more upper-class brothels?

Why the King's Master of Whispers was being so forthcoming, Ned wasn't sure, but so far he had proven himself to be the most helpful person in King's Landing. Which was surprising as Ned had thought Petyr Baelish would be more helpful, after all Catelyn had told him that Baelish was an old friend of hers. Strangely though, outside of Small Council meetings the man seemed to avoid him like the plague.

In fact he seemed to spend most of his time in his brothels, only ever making a public appearance when a meeting was called, and even then he was usually surrounded by guards. Then again the man made Ned uncomfortable, so it was likely for the best. Plus Varys was quite the helpful ally, though he likely only gave Ned a small amount of what he knew.

Using the information he had found out though, Ned and his steward, Jory Cassel, along with several guards, were going to investigate the armourer Jon frequently visited. Ned having decided to go there today, as he was in a better mood than usual, having just received a letter from his wife that Bran was alive and had awoken from his coma.

Unfortunately though his son was crippled, his legs having been mangled by the fall. But he was alive, and his mind was sound, even if he wasn't aware of the events leading to his fall. So in the end it was good news that he had awoken and that no trouble had befallen him or Winterfell in Ned's absence.

Pushing those thoughts away for now, Ned instead focused on the blacksmiths shop. Which as he looked at it, he noticed was one of the largest buildings on the Street of Steel.

Soon after he met the owner of the shop, one Tobho Mott. A greasy, skinny looking man, with a greed glint in his eyes. Still though despite his mistrustful appearance, he at least acted very courteously when he met Ned, though he was quite boastful with him frequently commenting about him being the best armourer in Westeros.

Though judging from the quality of the armour and weaponry he could see, and the size of the shop he was able to afford, there was likely some truth to his boasting.

After a brief interrogation of the man, Ned learned that Jon had come to the armoury, because he had taken an interest in Tobho's apprentice Gendry. Not an untoward interest, more a curiosity, one which Ned deemed important. Which was why he waited for the boy in question to come and speak to him. Distracting the boy from his work in the forge as he did so.

Gendry looked up as he heard his Master calling him. A slight frown on his face as he carefully put down the helm and turned around, his gaze fixed curiously on the figure of Ned Stark, the man he recognised as Hand of the King, as his Master brought both him and one of his guardsmen into the shop.

The instant he saw the bastard blacksmith, Ned knew exactly what he was, but more importantly he knew what Jon's interest in the boy might have been.

After all Gendry with his broad face, piercing blue eyes, heavily built physique and thick black hair was the spitting image of a young Robert Baratheon. Which was not surprising consider the boy was almost certainly Robert Baratheon's bastard son.

Ned knew this the moment he saw him. Seven Hells Gendry looked more like Robert than any of his trueborn sons did, even Tytan, who physically only really took after his father with his dark hair.

Taking a few seconds to gather himself, Ned then noticed the helmet the boy was currently working on. A beautiful piece that was shaped like the head of a bull, gleaming and forged of blackened metal.

"This is fine work," Ned said, as he picked up the helmet and had a look, noticing that it was still in need of finishing and filing down. "How much for it?"

Instantly Ned could see a scowl on Gendry's face as he heard the question, one so reminiscent of Robert that it made Ned's stomach lurch.

"It's not for sale," Gendry replied defiantly, uncaring of Ned's status as Hand as he instead took the helmet off of him.

Another Lord might take offence to a response like that, but Ned merely waved Tobho off when he attempted to apologise, his grey eyes instead fixed on the boy. The slightest of smiles breaking through his stoic expression as he noticed that the boy had seemed to have inherited a number of Robert Baratheon characteristics as well as his looks. Such as the man's defiance, temper and stubbornness.

Ned left soon after that, only staying long enough to ask the boy a few questions before he did so, mostly about his mother, and what he knew of his origins. Which appeared to be nothing, as the boy didn't know who his father was and in fact just seemed quite uncomfortable when asked about him.

Fortunately though before he left Ned did manage to find out that Jon Arryn had also spoken to the boy and had asked him very similar questions, which just made Ned even more curious about what Jon was up to before his death and why that might have led to his death. His mind going back to the note Catelyn had received from her sister in the dead of night many months ago, when the King and his retinue had been travelling to Winterfell, a note which accused the Lannisters of Jon Arryn's death.

Scowling at that though, Ned couldn't help but think he was missing something here. Some great piece of the puzzle that tied all the mystery's surrounding Jon Arryn's death together. Pausing at that though, Ned came to the conclusion that he needed some space to think about it. Somewhere quiet and peaceful where he could mull over just what had happened to his old friend, and who the culprits were.

 **( - )**

 **(With Tytan, at the Godswood)**

Standing in the middle of the Godswood, Tytan looked sadly down at the felled trunk of a pale white tree. A Weirwood tree had once stood here in ages past, a symbol of the Old Gods, and one that the fanatics of the Seven had had cut down.

Despite that though Tytan still liked to come to the Godswood in King's Landing. Sure it wasn't as large as those in the north of the continent, but it was quiet and it was peaceful. On top of that Tytan could almost feel the energy of the place. Though whether that was due to the Old Gods being real, or due to the power of nature being stronger in this spot, Tytan wasn't sure.

Ironically theology had never been his strong point. He believed in what he could see, especially since he knew gods were real, or at least they had been when he had lived the life of Percy Jackson. Whether that was true here he wasn't sure, and nor would he be until he had seen proof of their divinity.

In recent weeks Tytan had found himself vising the Godswood more often, leaving his guards behind and just standing here in peace. It allowed him time to properly ruminate on things, such as the state of the world, and what his plans were to bring about the changes that he wanted to see.

Of course for the most part he thought of the dreams he had. Of what they could mean. After all dragons had been extinct for years now, and the walking dead were supposedly just a tale told to scare children. But staring at the remnants of the Weirwood tree, Tytan couldn't help but wonder about that.

He'd already identified the arid area the dragon's had flown over and the mighty city they had cast in shadow as Meeren, A large city in Essos, and one of the few that still openly practiced slavery. It was a place that Tytan would very much like to burn to the ground, were it not in another continent and thousands of leagues away.

He'd also come to the conclusion that his other dreams were of the land beyond the Wall. It was a guess but one he was quite confident in. Which of course begged the question about whether his visions of legions of the dead and the giant Weirwood tree were a premonition of things to come or whether they were events that had long since happened. The same could be said for his other visions. The dragons could have been from the time of old Valyria.

So far the only thing Tytan was sure about was that the girl had been real, the one with golden eyes, bronze hair and nut-brown skin. She'd been real, and more than that she was alive, he could feel that much.

A slight smile strayed across Tytan's mouth at the thought of the girl. He knew he must come across as obsessed, but he couldn't help it, the image of her had been burned into his mind. Realistically though Tytan knew he would not be able to marry her, after all his father had already entered into negotiations with Mace Tyrell. Arranging for Tytan to marry young Margery Tyrell, which was something that didn't concern him too much, from what he had heard she was beautiful, intelligent and generous.

The match was good, and Tytan knew that as a Prince it was expected that he would have to marry for the peace and prosperity of the realm, as oppose to some foolish notion like love. Selfish desires didn't matter, there was only his duty to people. Deep down he knew that, but still he couldn't stop thinking of the girl from his dreams. He wanted to meet her, to know her and gods willing to spend the rest of his life with her. It was bizarre and made no sense, then again that was always the case when it came to the hearts of mortals.

"Prince Tytan?" The voice of Ned Stark suddenly called out, knocking Tytan out of his thoughts as he turned to see the northern Lord approaching.

"Lord Hand, is there something you need?" Tytan replied, his tone mild as he pushed aside his irritation at being interrupted.

"No my Prince, I just came here to clear my thoughts. I find spending time in the Godswood helps me think." Ned replied, as he came to a stop next to Tytan, his stoic grey eyes gazing at what remained of the Weirwood tree.

Tytan's lips quirked upwards as he heard that. "It looks like that's something we have in common."

Ned hummed in response to that, before after a few moments he turned to look at the Prince. "May I ask you something?"

"Go for it." Tytan replied with a shrug.

"I heard you looked in on Jon Arryn before he died, did he tell you anything before he passed?" Ned suddenly asked, turning to fully face the Prince as he did so.

"Jon Arryn?" Tytan replied mildly, thinking back on the friendly if naive old man he had known and somewhat liked. He'd been one of the first ones to notice that there was something different about Tytan, that he was far too intelligent for his age. "He wasn't really saying much, and what little he did so was barely understandably. By the time I saw him, the fever had set in and he was delirious."

"What did he tell you exactly?" Ned asked a frown on his face at the lack of information he was receiving.

Tytan frowned as he heard that, weighing up the pros and cons of telling Ned Stark anything. After all he personally wasn't too keen on the man, that being said though he was honourable and seemed to take his job seriously, which Tytan could respect at least. After all there were far too few men like that in King's Landing, which is why Tytan had to often use brutal methods when it came to dealing with them.

A few moments later, Tytan finally decided to be helpful, after all the man was likely just seeking closure. "He said the seed is strong, though what he meant by that I'm not sure. I could only think it was wishful thinking that his son would be able to continue the line of House Arryn."

"Wishful thinking?" Ned asked, a frown on his face.

Tytan rolled his eyes as he heard that. "Surely you've heard that his son, your nephew is weak and sickly. I have doubts he'll make it to adulthood, and even if he does his weakness might be passed on to his children."

Ned grunted as he heard that, he had after all heard similar comments made about his nephew. With many people believing that the boy was so weak because Jon had been an old man when he fathered him.

A part of him had to admit he hadn't thought of that, but now the Prince had said it, Jon's words could have been about his son and the continuation of his line, which once again put Ned in a quandary. After all he still believed Jon had been assassinated, he just lacked a motive for the murder and the person behind it.

"Thank you my Prince, and forgive me for wasting your time with my questions." Ned finally said after a few minutes.

"It's no problem," Tytan replied, before he turned to leave. "If you want to ask anymore, I'd be willing to answer them."

 **( - )**

 **AN: So what do you all think I hope you enjoyed it, it took me a while to write it as I found it quite difficult to balance the chapter. Still I think it is alright, would love to hear some feedback. So please leave a comment or a review.**

 **By the way for those curious, someone has already guessed who the mystery girl is. Which genuinely impressed me. Not that I'll reveal it, that takes the suspense out of it.**

 **In other news I have recently published a new story called 'The Renegade', which is a Harry Potter story. So if you're interested I'd love it if you have a read.**

 **Plus I have a plan laid out for a potential Percy Jackson/ Avatar the Last Airbender story. Which I thought would be a pretty neat idea. Even so I wouldn't mind hearing people's thoughts on that kind of crossover.**

 **So other then that I hope you all enjoy the story so far, and that you continue to read and review.**

 **Thanks for reading and I will be back in a bit.**

 **Greed720.**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Here is the next chapter of the Last King, I hope you all enjoy it and leave a review.**

 **Would also like to say thank you for all the support so far, this story has now broken the 1000 favourite mark!**

 **Also as always if you have any specific questions then PM me and I'll try to get back to you.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones.**

 **( - )**

 **(Last Time)**

 _Tytan rolled his eyes as he heard that. "Surely you've heard that his son, your nephew is weak and sickly. I have doubts he'll make it to adulthood, and even if he does his weakness might be passed on to his children."_

 _Ned grunted as he heard that, he had after all heard similar comments made about his nephew. With many people believing that the boy was so weak because Jon had been an old man when he fathered him._

 _A part of him had to admit he hadn't thought of that, but now the Prince had said it, Jon's words could have been about his son and the continuation of his line, which once again put Ned in a quandary. After all he still believed Jon had been assassinated, he just lacked a motive for the murder and the person behind it._

 _"Thank you my Prince, and forgive me for wasting your time with my questions." Ned finally said after a few minutes._

 _"_ _It's no problem," Tytan replied, before he turned to leave. "If you want to ask anymore, I'd be willing to answer them."_

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 11**

 **( - )**

 **(The Red Keep, King's Landing)**

It had been several weeks since the tournament had ended and in that time Tytan had once again slipped into his familiar routine. He woke up relatively early, had a few hours of training with his guardsmen, drilling with sword, spear and axe. A useful activity for both him and his men, one which kept their skills sharp and their bodies in good physical condition.

After that he would break his fast with his family, mainly with Cersei, Jamie, Tommen and Marcella. As Robert wasn't really that much of a family man and rarely got up before noon, and Joffrey, well Joffrey was a little shit and claimed he had better things to do, which probably meant leering and sneering at people in the halls of the Keep. That or he was off somewhere torturing puppies.

Following that Tytan would then set about his work, he'd contact Beric and get a report on the comings and goings of his Goldcloaks and other soldiers and agents. This normally included a rundown on his existing forces and what was happening in the Kingdom, and whether any of his men were showing signs of corruption. Thankfully such things rarely happened, especially since Tytan was known to be utterly ruthless and without mercy when it came to corruption and betrayal. With him seeing it as little more than treason and treachery and something that was punishable by death.

Following that Tytan would call in one of his faithful Maesters, the ones he had overseeing his accounts and the management of his assests, and have them report on his existing assets, and what they had been able to gather using Littlefinger's former spy network.

Something which was most prevalent in the south of the continent, though did have some reach in the North. Most recently Tytan had learned that Bran Stark had awoken with no memory of his injury, and this his Uncle Tyrion had just gotten back to the city and was already in one of Tytan's brothels. He was also told of rumours about a new King beyond the Wall, and of Lysa Arryn in the Vale having now fully descended into madness.

These meetings tended to take up the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon, and would then be followed by Tytan sitting on the throne and taking petitions from nobles and commonfolk, acting in his father's stead whilst the great whale finally rolled out of bed and set about getting up. After which he would probably either go hunting or drink himself into another stupor.

Then once the petitions were over he would take a ride and get a bit of fresh air and then head back to King's Landing, where he would while away the rest of the day in a tavern or a high class brothel. It was a routine, a well-balanced one which allowed him to play and have fun, whilst also being productive and playing the part of a respectable Prince.

Waking up this morning though, with a slightly dry mouth and a warm body nestled comfortably into his side a shock of golden blonde hair splayed over his chest, he was about to have his routine disturbed. With the disturbance coming about in the form of a loud knock sounding on his door, far earlier than his usual wakeup call was.

"What is it?" Tytan groaned out, an irritable expression on his face as he pushed himself up slightly in his bed, his fine silk sheets sliding off him, even as the woman sharing his bed let out a disgruntled moan before she turned and buried her head into her pillow, pulling her silk covers over her as she did so.

"The King has sent a servant to bring you a message!" Arthur, one of Tytan's guardsmen, called out. The tired looking man opening the door slightly as he looked into the Crown Prince's chambers, a slight grin slowly spreading across his face as he saw the withering look Tytan was giving him.

"Well send him in." Tytan groaned out, before he pushed himself out of bed. Only pausing long enough to make sure the girl warming his bed, a pretty and kind girl by the name of Alyssa Tarley, a member of a cadet branch of House Tarley, was still covered by the sheets.

In response to his words, the door opened and Jamie entered, a slight smirk on his face as he saw the disgruntled expression on Tytan's face.

"The King's servant?" Tytan asked dryly, sending the fully armour Arthur an amused look, before looking back to the armour clad Jamie.

"Strictly speaking aren't we all the King's servants?" Jamie asked just as dryly, though there was a slightly disgruntled expression on his face at the Prince reminding him. Jamie after all hated Robert even more than Tytan did, seven hells he hated the man more than Cersei did.

"Speak for yourself, I serve no man." Tytan replied easily, standing up from his bed fully naked and wandering over to a large dresser. Absentmindedly pulling on some, somewhat clean black breeches, a pair of polished knee high, black leather boots and a smart yet simple grey jerkin.

"No but show him the right woman and he'll be on his knees in seconds." Arthur snidely called out from where he was standing guard in front of the Prince's door.

"What's that, did Arthur just say he wanted to help the stable boys muck out our horse's stalls today?" Tytan asked, an amused note to his tone.

"No, but I think he was commenting upon your infatuation with some dream girl." Jamie commented lightly, the slightest of smiles playing around his face as he leant back against the wall of Tytan's room, his golden Kingsguard helmet under one arm and his other hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.

"We don't get to choose who we love." Tytan shrugged, as he grabbed his sheathed Valyrian sword and long dagger and belted them around his waist.

"I know." Jamie replied quietly, his tone turning slightly somber as he heard that.

Walking towards the door Tytan patted Jamie on the shoulder, a soft smile on his face. "The heart divine or otherwise is a complicated thing Uncle, one which mortals will never truly comprehend. All we can do it follow it and hope for the best."

Jamie nodded as he heard that, not quite fully understanding his nephew's words, but getting the general gist of what he was saying.

"So what did the fat man want?" Tytan suddenly asked, changing the tone of the conversation.

"Oh right, the King has called for a Small Council meeting." Jamie replied, standing up straighter as he did so.

"Really?" Tytan queried, his tone incredulous at such a thing. His father had probably attended maybe three Small Council meetings in the seventeen years he had ruled the Seven Kingdoms, and in that time he had never been the one to call for a meeting to take place.

"Yes, I was told that it was an urgent matter that required all the Small Council members." Jamie replied, just as in the dark as Tytan as he was merely passing on the message.

"Right then, now you've got me curious, I'll be sure to head there straight away." Tytan said before he left the room and began to make his way towards the Council Chambers, pausing only long enough to tell Arthur to stay on the door and see to it that Alyssa got back to her families manse both safely and discreetly.

Normally he would have seen to the girl getting back to her manse himself, before heading to the training yard. But a summons from his father, even if he didn't like him was not something he could or would ignore. Plus he was also very curious about what this urgent matter was, and why it had forced his father to call for a meeting, let alone attend said meeting in person.

It was with that thought in mind that Tytan and Jamie both strode through the hallways, heading for the Small Council Chambers. The two of them making swiftly progress as servants stepped aside and Baratheon and Lannister guardsmen made way for them, giving the Crown Prince respectful bows as he passed. Tytan responding with a short and simple greeting, one which was appreciated all the same, as most nobles didn't bother.

It was barely ten minutes later that Tytan entered the room, throwing the door open as he confidently strode in, Jamie moving to the side and standing besides Ser Barristan Selmy, his father's usual protector as he did so. The older man barely managing to constrain an eye roll at his nephews theatrics.

Upon reaching the Small Council table though, Tytan's expression tightened as he saw he was one of the last to arrive, and that he his father was sitting in Tytan's usual seat, a look of barely contained rage on the King's chubby face. His meaty hands currently clenched into fists as he sat at the table, an impatient look on his face.

"Good you're finally here!" Robert grunted, his expression irritable.

"A chair please." Tytan replied, looking to a nearby boy, the King's cupbearer Lancel Lannister. Who at the Prince's words jumped a little bit before he put down his jug of wine and dragged another chair over to the table, the one that Stannis usually sat at but which had since been moved to the side of the room due to his prolonged absence.

Sitting down on the chair, and nodding to Lancel, his second cousin, or something like that, Tytan then looked around at the rest of the table noticing as he did so that the other Councilors all looked quite tense.

Varys's expression was quite tight as he unconsciously tapped the table with his fingers, occasionally sending Robert uncomfortable glances. Renly was also there, his expression slightly pale as he kept sending nervous glances at the thunderous expression on his older brother's face. Even Pycelle and Littlefinger looked nervous as they both seemed to quail whenever Robert's dark expression moved on to them.

Looking around the room Tytan then noticed that the Hand was not here, and that Robert must be waiting for Ned Stark to arrive before he began the meeting and talked about whatever it was that was pissing him off so much.

The next few minutes of waiting that followed, were some of the most uncomfortable Tytan had had in years, or at least since he had escaped Tartarus. As the misery of the Pit somewhat topped a bit of awkwardness. Still though, he was quite thankful when he heard the distant sounds of footfalls, followed by the door to the Chamber once again opening as Ned Stark the Hand of the King finally made his presence known.

Upon arriving in the room, Ned just like the other occupants seemed to quickly pick up on the tension in the room. Which is why he gave a short bow to the King and quickly made his way towards the table where all the other Councilors were sat waiting.

"My Lords, my King" Ned said slowly as he neared the table, and then took his seat, the one directly opposite Robert and just next to Tytan's. "If I may ask what is the reason behind this sudden meeting?"

"The whore is pregnant." The King barked out in answer, spittle spraying out of his mouth in his anger as he slammed his fist down onto the table top, as if to enunciate his point.

"Whore?" Tytan asked dryly, with him being the only one at the table not to flinch back at the King's rage, with even the stoic Ned Stark showing a slight amount of discomfort.

"The Targaryen bitch!" Robert snarled as he turned his piggy eyes to Tytan.

"Ahh, thanks for clearing that up." Tytan replied easily, getting a grunt from his father in reply.

"I warned you Ned." Robert suddenly shouted, ignoring Tytan now as he instead glared at his longtime friend, referencing a conversation they had had months ago when they had been travelling down the King's Road. One in which they discussed the upcoming marriage between Daenerys Targaryen and Khal Drogo, a Dothraki Horse Lord, "I warned you back in the barrow lands that something like this would happen, but you didn't want to hear about it. Well, you'll hear it now, I want them dead, all of them, mother, child, and that fool Viserys as well. Is that plain enough for you?!"

Tytan rolled his eyes at that, it appeared Robert was crueler and stupider than he had ever realised. Killing the two older Targaryen's Tytan could understand, they threatened the safety of the realm and could incite rebellion if they stepped foot on Westeros. It may not be pleasant but Tytan could understand it and agree with it.

But killing a child, a baby, that was something he would never condone, and he knew it would cause a lot of damage to the Crown if word of it got out. People could except a lot of shit, but the killing of a child, was something that would disgust most everybody. Babies were as innocent as a human could be, to kill one, well that was one of the vilest of crimes.

Looking to the Hand, Tytan could see Ned's eyes look at the rest of the Councilor trying to gage their reactions. The expression on his face instantly telling Tytan that the Hand agreed with him, at least as far as killing the unborn baby.

"Robert, you can't be serious about this?" Ned spoke up, the faintest hint of horror in his words as he looked at his old friend in shock, "You are talking about killing a child. You will dishonour yourself forever if you do this!"

"Then let the dishonour hang on my head then. I am not so blind to notice that there is a shadow of an axe hanging over my neck." Robert bellowed back, the fat King not caring one jot about his honour. After all, as King he could just demand that history be rewritten to suit him.

Ned bit his lip as he heard that, his expression tense and pale, "Where exactly did this information come from?"

Tytan narrowed his eyes as he heard that, his gaze moving to Littlefinger, only to dismiss that thought as he had had the man on lockdown since he had returned from Winterfell and had already usurped his spy network. With Baelish being restricted to his personal chambers other than for Council meetings when he was taken directly there and then back to his rooms. In fact it was reaching a point where Tytan was tempted to just dispose of the man, after all his only use now was his vote on the Council, what with Tytan stopping him from even sending or receiving Ravens now.

That of course meant that the only other person who could have found this out was Varys, the Master of Whispers, the King's spymaster and the only man on the Council that Tytan hadn't managed to get a read on yet. Though he did suspect that Varys was assisting Ned Stark in his questioning over the death of Jon Arryn.

In fact just the other day he had received a report that the Hand had visited one of Tytan's brothels, and had spoken to one of the girls, one who had given birth to one of the King's Bastards. Much to Tytan's displeasure, though he did intend to look after the girl and her son. After all the child maybe a Bastard but she was also Tytan's sister, and as such he would protect her as best as he could. That being said he didn't like it when other people messed around in his family's business, especially Ned Stark, a man Tytan only just tolerated.

He wasn't proven wrong either, because a few moments later the bald, pale skinned man gave the Hand an unctuous smile, "I'm afraid that would be me Lord Hand." Varys said, his powdered hands wringing together, "And I would not bring false information to the Council or lie to the King."

"And how exactly did you come to find this information out, Lord Varys?" Ned asked, his tone curious but quite cold. Obviously Ned knew how much the Spider was helping him, and had begun to see the man in a slightly better light than he would likely have done so normally, however at the same time this was a tense issue and clearly it was getting to the inexperienced Stark.

"From Ser Jorah Mormont, an old associate of yours I believe?" The eunuch replied simply, clasping his hands together in front of him, "He has gotten himself into the position of advisor to the Targaryen's, both the brother, Viserys and the sister, Daenerys."

"You bring us information from a traitor and criminals mouth?" Ned suddenly asked, his tone hardening at the mention of the man he had had exiled for slavery, "How are we supposed to take it as truth?"

If he was unnerved by the look, Varys did not show it as he instead just gave a short bow and responded. Clearly not bothered by Ned's sharp tone, after all this was quite a difficult situation, raised tempers could be forgiven, especially between would be allies.

"Ser Jorah wouldn't even contemplate deceiving me." Varys replied softly and confidently, "Rely on it my Lord. The Targaryen Princess is with child."

Ned did not back down, "So you say. If we are wrong, we do not need to fear. Nor would we need to fear if the child is a girl, or if the birth miscarries or is still. There are many possibilities going forwards, we should not just jump to conclusions and act rashly."

"And what if it's a boy?" The King snapped out, his eyes fixed harshly on his old friend, "What if he is a boy Ned, a boy with a claim to the throne and a horde of Dothraki at his back? What then?"

"The Dothraki fear water. They won't dare cross water that their horses won't drink from." Ned replied swiftly, relying on what little he knew of the Dothraki Horse Lords to answer the King. After all he was not all knowing when it came to the factions in Essos, but he knew the simple well known facts and could use them to his advantage, "I shall fear them the day they teach their horses how to run on water."

Robert paused as he heard that, his expression still dark and getting darker, "So you tell me to do nothing until that damned dragon spawn lands on my shore with an army of Dothraki screamers at its back?" The King finally snarled, leaning back in his chair a look of disbelief and disgust on his face, "What kind of damned counsel is that?"

"The child is still within its mother's belly." Ned snapped back, the usually icy cold Stark beginning to lose his temper now, "Even Aegon the Conqueror did not conquer anything until he was weaned."

In response to that, Robert slammed his fist onto the table in rage, "By the Gods! Have you all lost your tongues!? Will no-one talk sense into this fool!?" Robert snapped out his angry blue eyes roving around the table of quiet Councilors as he did so.

"This matter seems simple enough to me. We ought to have killed both Targaryens years ago, It may be unpleasant but for the good of the realm it has to be done." Renly spoke out, his tone low as he looked around the table.

"I understand where you are coming from my Lord, but sometimes those in power must do vile things for the good of the realm." Varys spoke up softly, a note of sadness in his voice, though whether that was genuine or not was up for debate.

"My order serves the realm, not the King. Despite that though I have faithfully provided sound counsel to the previous King and the current King, yet I ask you this, if war were to come to these lands again, how many thousands will die? How many mothers will be ripped away from their sons only to find themselves at the ends of spear points? How many towns will burn? How many of our women will be raped by these savages?" Pycelle sighed at that, ignoring the incredulous expression some members of the Council threw him after he proclaimed his loyalty to the two previous King's, "It is wiser to end a single life now, than let thousands more perish in the future."

"When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman," Littlefinger spoke up, a twisted expression on his face as he looked around the room, "You should just close your eyes and continue, cut her throat and be done with it."

"Ironic considering you've never been with a woman before Littlefinger." Tytan spoke up dryly, making his presence known as the rest of the room looked at him, Renly stifling a slight smile at Tytan's comment about the now scowling Baelish.

"And do you have an actual opinion boy?" Robert asked irritably as he looked at his eldest son, for once not amused by the man's sharp tongue and quick wit.

Tytan regarded him coolly as he heard that, before he shrugged lightly, "Frankly I have no qualms about killing the brother or the sister, as long as it was done subtly and wouldn't get back to us, which is questionable in itself. The death of a baby though, even an unborn one though is completely reprehensible."

"A rather contradictory statement my Prince." Varys said softly.

"Indeed, but this is a very complicated situation, which is why it needs to be thought out. So far I can see benefits to ending the threat now before it becomes too strong. On the other hand though I can see an assassination attempt backfiring."

Robert scowled as he heard that, but didn't immediately shout his son down, "Speak plainly Tytan, enough of your riddles?"

"If the baby turns out to be a son, then we will have to take actions sooner rather than later, even if it does come down to assassination later on when the child is grown, I believe it is still possible through the use of the faceless man, as expensive as they may be." Tytan said, ignoring the silence as he spoke his thoughts to the room. "If it is a boy we can take action later on and kill him off before he becomes a man. It will cost the Kingdom a lot of coin, but such is the case when you want a job done properly."

"If it is a girl though, then we have more time." Tytan replied, still thinking over the options and the ideas that were accruing to him. "Furthermore the child's blood will be diluted and her children's claim on the throne will be tenuous at best. So much so that I doubt even the staunchest of Targaryen supporters would get behind them, not unless their victory was clear cut." Tytan continued. "If we also later kill off the brother and sister quietly the child won't have any siblings and the Targaryen name will die, and that will be an end to our problems."

"If we try to assassinate Daenerys Targaryen now though, and we fail, the Khal will be enraged and will likely turn all his attention to getting vengeance on us. Similarly if we succeed, all it would take is a few poisonous words in the Khal's ear and we will have a Dothraki horde baying for our blood." Tytan said as he looked around the room. "Whether we like it or not the Dothraki will probably come for us, I very much doubt the Targaryen's got this far on their own. They likely have supporters, ones who have back up plans in place in case we make a move on the child."

"That being said I think for the moment our focus shouldn't be on killing off the Targaryen's, not yet. Maybe in a few years when the Khal is bored of the girl we can come back to the issue, but for now I see no point in attempt an assassination, especially since it would likely only goad the Dothraki into attacking more quickly." Tytan continued as he looked around the room, still trying to sort out his own thoughts on the issue and using the Small Council as a sounding board of sorts.

"That's why instead of assassination we should prepare plans for when they do come for us. We should bulk up the navy, make preparations to sabotage the Dothraki's ships, send our agents to Essos and stir up trouble for them." Tytan continued. "And that's not even mentioning the logistics of transporting thousands of men and horse across the sea. Half of them will likely die before they get here, either because of the storms, or through dehydration. Then when we do get here we will be waiting with a host of the Kingdom's finest at our backs, ready to butcher them on the beaches."

Robert grunted loudly at that. "So what you mean to say is we do nothing?"

"For now we wait and plan, we prepare plans to disrupt their activities. We send agents to stir up war between the different Khalasars in Essos, and if needs be we contact the faceless men and order a few deaths." Tytan continued. "There are many options open for us going forwards, for now I don't think we should be making any rash decisions."

"Those are some very vague plans?" Renly said blandly, an eyebrow raised in curiosity as he looked over to his nephew.

"Well we are facing some very vague threats." Tytan replied dryly.

"These plots are all well and good, but this can all be circumvented if we kill her now." Renly replied bluntly, obviously he was still a little pissed about how Tytan had beaten down Renly's boy toy, Loras Tyrell.

"Unlikely." Tytan replied instantly, a slight frown on his face at his Uncle's challenge, "Just look at our own history, my father rebelled against the Targaryen's and overthrew them all over a girl. As I said before the Horse Lord's reaction will be just as volatile if we kill his pregnant wife. For now we should set about less risky ways of neutralizing the threat, besides it would likely be easier if we just kill off the Khal. Once we do that his entire Khalasar will begin infighting due to the power vacuum left behind by Drogo's death."

"Which of course is just as risky as assassinating the Targaryen girl." Varys chipped in, surprisingly voicing his support for Tytan's vague plans for the future. Something which instantly made the Prince suspicious.

Robert grunted at that, still unhappy, but slightly mollified by Tytan's words. "Varys see to it that you begin making trouble for the Targaryens."

Varys nodded at that.

"And Ned, you and Tytan will see to plans for the Kingdom's defenses!" The King then commanded. "Tytan you can take over the responsibilities of the Master of Ships for now."

Tytan nodded at that, his mind already pondering over what he would implement. After all the King's instructions were pretty open ended and gave Tytan a lot of scope with which to work. Already he could think of a number of cunning ideas. Some of which he pulled straight from the history lessons he had been forced to learn when he had gone by the name Percy.

"That being said, Varys I want you to find out more about the girl and her protections. Plan out a potential assassination but don't implement it yet, not unless I order you to." Robert suddenly added, his gaze shifting round the table.

Tytan grunted at that, but didn't speak out against it. After all he done as much as he could to convince his father, what was currently decided would do for now.

Ned Stark however stood up as he heard that. "I will make plans for war, but I will not be a part of murdering a child!"

"You'll do what I damn well tell you to do!" Robert snapped back, his expression darkening as he glared up at his old friend. "If not you can get out and begin overseeing the Kingdom's defenses, your still the Hand and still have duties, if you don't have the balls to do what may be necessary then leave it to those of us who can!"

"I thought you were a better man." Ned replied bluntly, before he turned and stalked away.

"Gods damn the Stark and their sense of honour!" Robert growled, before he looked to Varys. "See to the arrangements."

Varys nodded his head at that.

"And you go help Ned!" Robert snapped out as he looked at Tytan. "I'm going hunting!"

"My King." Tytan replied sarcastically as he too stood up, before he gave a short bow and left the room.

 **( - )**

 **(In Essos)**

Daenerys idly rested her hands on the slight lump on her stomach, a strange expression on her face as she looked down and felt the physical proof of the child growing within her. It was strange, she had never imagined her life turning out this way, nor did she think her first child would be fathered by a Dothraki Horse Lord.

Still for perhaps the first time in years Daenerys would say she was content, not happy it would take her a lot longer to get used to the roughness of living with Dothraki, but at the very least she felt content with her situation for now. Sure it wasn't what she had dreamed of as a young girl, but it was better than living hand to mouth as she and her brother went from palace to palace, begging for sanctuary and assistance in retaking their birth right.

Letting out a faint sigh, Daenerys was soon distracted from her musings as she heard a commotion coming from near the entrance to her tent.

Turning around with a curious and disgruntled expression on her face, she could only watch as her brother, Viserys, dragged one of her handmaidens into his sister's tent by her hair. Viserys obviously ignoring the younger Dothraki girl's screams and protests as he just violently dragged her into the tent, before carelessly throwing her at Daenerys feet.

"You send this whore to give me commands?! I should have sent you back her head!" Viserys snarled, his face contorted in anger and a bit of spittle flying from his mouth as he marched up to Daenerys.

"Forgive me, Khaleesi." The young girl muttered, fearful that she might have brought down the brother's wrath on the sister.

"Hush now, it's alright. Take her and leave us." Daenerys replied softly, crouching down and helping the scared servant up, before she turned to one of her other maids, a girl from Lys, who at the Princess's word took hold of the other girl and quickly left the tent, helping the scared servant out as she did so. "Why did you hit her?"

"How many times do I have to tell you? You do not command me!" Viserys replied, his mind still consumed with anger and outrage over his sister's assumptions, among other things.

"I wasn't commanding you. I just wanted to invite you to have supper with me." Daenerys replied softly, still uncertain as she just felt like quailing under her brother's furious gaze.

"What's this then?" Viserys spat, raising his fist as he did so and showing the screwed up leather clothing in his hand to his sister.

"It's a gift, I had it made for you." Daenerys replied, taking a step back as she did so.

"Dothraki rags, you're going to dress me now. It stinks of piss and shit! All of it!" Viserys yelled in frustration, a vein now very prominent on his forehead as he proceeded to throw the clothes and the accompanying golden necklace at her, ignoring his sister's condition.

"Stop, Stop it!" Daenerys shouted loudly, her eyes wide as she back away from her borderline deranged brother.

"You would turn me into one of them, wouldn't you? What? I guess next you'll want to braid my hair like them." Viserys spat as he began to furiously pace back and forth.

"You've no right to a braid, you've won no victories yet." Daenerys shot back, startling herself as she did so.

"You do not talk back to me!" Viserys snarled back as he stalked up to his young sister and proceeded to slap her across the face, hard. So hard in fact that he knocked her to the ground. Not that he particularly cared at the moment, as he instead proceeded to get on top of her and hit her again. "You are a Horse Lord's slut, and now you've awoken the Dragon!"

In response to this Daenerys grabbed the gold necklace he'd previously thrown at her, and which was now just lying on the ground, which she then proceeded to use like a flail. Whipping it up and at her brother as she did so, and hitting him in the face with it, knocking him on to one side. Making him let out a shrill squeal of pain as she did so.

Glaring now, Daenerys used the distraction as an opportunity to get up, before she then looked down on her older brother angrily. "I am the Khaleesi of the Dothraki! I am the wife of the great Khal and I carry his son inside me. The next time you raise a hand to me, will be the last time you have hands." She then threatened, feeling a lot more confident than she ever had before as she saw the bloody cuts on her brother's face and the fearful glance he sent at her.

A few moments later Viserys left, sending only a single hateful expression at his sister as he did so, before he fled the tent. Running past the startled Jorah Mormont as he did so, who at that moment had just been entering the tent to see what all of the commotion was about.

"I hit him, I hit the Dragon." Daenerys muttered, a shell-shocked expression on her face as she looked to Jorah, her heart still beating faster than normal after the confrontation.

"Your brother Rhaegar was the last dragon. Viserys is little more than a shadow of your brother and the former Targaryen Kings." Jorah replied abruptly, walking over to the young girl's side as he did so.

"He is still the true King." Daenerys replied softly, a hint of regret entering her voice as she thought back on her actions.

"Truth now. Do you want to see your brother sitting on the Iron Throne?" Jorah suddenly asked, the older man having already come to his own conclusions on the two Targaryen siblings and which one of them he would rather sit on the Iron Throne.

"No. But the common people are waiting for him. Illyrio said they are sewing dragon banners in secret and awaiting for his return." Daenerys replied, looking to Jorah as she did so, hoping for the older man to confirm what Illyrio had told the two siblings.

"The common people pray for rain, health and a summer that never ends. They don't care what games the high Lords play." Jorah replied bluntly, knowing as he did that most commoners were content enough under the Baratheon rule and wouldn't want the status quo to be interrupted or war to once again come to the land. Not that he was about to tell this young girl that.

"And what do you pray for, Ser Jorah?" Daenerys asked curiously as she digested what the man had previously said.

"Home." Jorah replied simply.

"I pray for home too. My brother will never take back the Seven Kingdoms or the Iron Throne. He couldn't lead an army even if my husband gave him one. With him leading we'll never be able to go home." Daenerys replied softly as she looked away from Jorah and instead at the three petrified dragon eggs she had received from Illyrio Mopatis a few months ago as a wedding present.

 **( - )**

 **(The Wall)**

Jon Snow scowled as he looked out over the Wall, pulling his black, fur cloak tighter around his shoulders as he glared down the barren land below, a cold, icy tundra that spread out as far as the eye could see. Letting out a loud sigh, his breath turned to mist as it erupted from his mouth only to disperse in the freezing air.

For most this view he was looking on would be considered beautiful, and it was the first time he had seen it. That though had been a number of months ago now, back when Jon had first joined the Night's Watch, full of enthusiasm at becoming a member of the noble brotherhood that protected the lands of the south from the Wildling's beyond the Wall. Now though Jon just looked out on the land beyond the Wall grimly, a scowl on his face as he felt the icy cold wind blowing against his face.

At the time it had all sounded so fantastical, a way he could serve the realm and win himself recognition and honour, despite him being a bastard. It had taken him only half of his first day with the Night's Watch to disabuse him of that notion.

The Night's Watch in the end, it wasn't how he had expected it to be. The men he now called his brothers were thieves, murderers and rapers. Very few of the men here, were here by choice, which made everything even more uncomfortable. Especially for Jon, not just because he was a Bastard though, but because he was a Bastard who had been born and raised in Winterfell and had benefited from that in both his education, martial and otherwise.

Suffice to say he was not popular with some of his brothers, nor with some of the older members of the Watch. This of course wasn't helped by the first impression he gave people when he arrived all those months ago, when he had beaten down many of his brother's in the sparring ring, ignorant of the fact that all he was doing was gaining their distain.

In fact it had only been after Lord Tyrion Lannister had told him that he realised what he had done, the little Lord having made quite an impression on Jon with his dry wit and his nonchalance when it came to Bastards, unfortunately though Tyrion had left the Wall and gone back down south. Thankfully though, Jon had managed to mend some bridges with some of his brothers, and had even made a good group of what he would probably call friends.

Turning around and looking down, Jon looked at the busy form of Castle Black. From up here he could see the entire castle, and could even see the wooden scaffolding and workmen fixing up some of the broken towers and run down walls.

Apparently just a few years ago there had been less than a thousand men in the Night's Watch, barely enough to man three of the castles that were built along the Wall. Looking down now though, Jon could see that there were almost that many men that manned Castle Black alone. This, he had been told, was all due to the Crown Prince, Tytan Baratheon.

When he had met the Crown Prince in Winterfell, Jon hadn't been all that impressed. Sure he was good-looking, a skilled swordsman and blessed with unnatural abilities, but he was also irresponsible and arrogant. Or at least that was what Jon had thought when he had seen the Prince cavorting with whores and drinking with his men.

Now though, he was beginning to think differently. After all in the last couple of years the Prince had sent more than two thousand men to the Wall. Most of these men were criminals, men who the Goldcloaks had captured and who the Prince had dealt out justice too. Much to these men's shock as usually they were able to pay off the Goldcloaks, or at least that was what they had said was the case before the Prince took an active role in the Kingdom.

More than that though, the Prince was responsible for the capture and castration of Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain that Rides. A hulking beast of a man who the Prince had had arrested, and sent to the Wall for his horrendous crimes. Similarly the Prince had also had the man's men arrested and sent to the Wall, after having them all gelded of course.

Jon had actually seen the Mountain around, as he resided in Castle Black, or at least he occasionally did as the man was one of the Rangers and often went beyond the Wall with scouting parties so he could release his pent up fury on any Wildling stupid enough to confront him.

Scowling at that thought, Jon turned away from Castle Black and instead looked back out at the land beyond the Wall. He had wanted to be a Ranger, the same job his Uncle Benjen had hade before he went missing some months back. Unfortunately though he had been made one of the Stewards.

One of the ones who stayed within Castle Black and saw to the cooking and cleaning, a position he hated, even if his friend Samwell Tarley claimed, Jeor Mormont, the Lord Commander, had given him the position so he could train Jon up to be his successor. For Jon though it was an insult, one which only made his time at the Wall even more unpleasant, especially since it meant he would likely never get the opportunity to go beyond the Wall and search for his missing Uncle.

Letting out another sigh, Jon prepared to begin his patrol, walking along the Wall to check on the other sentry posts. As he stood up though, he was very nearly sent flying off of the top of the Wall when a golden brown blur shot past him. The suddenness of its appearance making him jump backwards and almost slip over, his hand instantly resting on his hilt as he stared after the flying object. His grey eyes narrowing as he saw that it looked to be a golden brown hawk.

"Bloody bird." Jon muttered, a scowl on his face as he looked away from the distant silhouette of the bird as it flew past the wall and down south. With that said Jon let out another sigh and got back to his patrol, hoping to get it over and done with.

Hopefully something interesting would happen sooner or later.

 **( - )**

Winging its way through the sky, the golden brown hawk continued its flight, riding the air currents as it flew south. Blinking its sharp golden eyes, the bird began to descend, happy that it had now gotten passed the massive, five hundred feet high ice wall that crossed the width of the continent

Coming to a stop on the thick branch of a tree, the bird gazed around at its surroundings, its sharp eyes seeing all as it surveyed the area before a few moments later it began to change shape. Its body getting larger and more humanoid, even as its feathers retracted back into its skin.

Within moments the hawk had been replaced by the lithe figure of a girl, one who had dark skin, bronze coloured hair, pointed ears, elegantly angled features and striking golden eyes. At a first glance the girl looked quite young, standing at under four and a half feet tall, with a thin yet strong body.

However on closer look her golden eyes looked too old, and her features were too flawless, inhumanely so. If a man were to look upon her they would be entranced by her unearthly beauty, the kind that many men would happily go to war over.

Not that she cared, as for the longest time humans had held no interest to her, or her kind, the other Children of the Land as humans called them.

Humans in her mind were a distasteful species, an arrogant one too, one which stole and killed from their own kin if it benefited them.

Now though, now something had gained her interest. It had started several weeks ago when she had been in the far north with her brothers and sisters. At the time she had been holding court, deciding with her fellows what to do as the foul creatures, the white skinned demons, had begun to awaken and grow in power. When she had suddenly felt and unfamiliar presence, one that she had sensed again later, as she had had the inexplicable feeling of something watching her.

What followed next were dreams, dreams of a dark haired human, but one unlike any she had ever heard of before, one who was older, wiser and more powerful than any human she had seen or met.

It had intrigued her, so much so that she had decided to investigate, which of course meant she would need to travel south, for she could feel through her connection to nature where the man was. Not that that was a problem, the Wall of ice may protect the realms south from the land north, but the protections both magical and physical did nothing to inhibit her passing. The Children after all had helped in the construction of the Wall, she herself had actually been there at the time, eight thousand years ago, and had helped her kin weave the protective magic that they had then imbued into the Wall.

Taking a deep breath, the slightest of frowns marred the girl's face as she felt the power of nature flowing through her. The magic of this land seemed weaker than she remembered, diluted almost. It was a strange feeling, but not a problem, as long as she retained her connection to nature she would never be powerless.

Shifting delicately on the branch, Leaf, for that was her name in the tongue of men, once again shifted into the form of a hawk. With this form being a useful one, as it allowed her to soar high above humans and their settlements, and travel vast swathes of land with ease.

Soon enough she would find this mysterious man, and then she could try to work out just what it was that made him so different, so inhuman.

 **( - )**

 **AN: So what did you all think? I hope you enjoyed it, it was quite tricky to write this in a way I liked, I hope I've done it justice. With this chapter we see things moving forwards, both in Essos, Westeros and King's Landing. Naturally things in Essos have not changed yet, but due to this chapter and the meeting in it, they will start to. I have a distinct idea of how I want the Essos arc to go, and how I will relate it to the goings on in Westeros. So far its all going to plan, and hopefully that continues to be the case.**

 **Also for those interested I will be taking some artistic licence when it comes magic and mystical beings in this story. Meaning I will be expanding on them more than I feel the books or the TV show do, as well as developing them slightly differently, in a way I prefer. Plus well done to the few people who correctly guessed Leaf. It is someone very different to the usual ones, someone who I think would compliment Tytan and the experiences he has gone through and who's nature was never properly explored, which gives me a lot of room for development.**

 **On another note I recently watch a new anime series (new to me) called** **Sekirei** **. Suffice to say as I was watching it many ideas came to mind for a Percy Jackson/** **Sekirei** **crossover. So far it is only in the planning stage like another of my potential stories, a PJ/Avatar the Last Airbender story. But I would love to hear if there would be any interest in a story like that.**

 **Thanks for reading and I hope you leave a review.**

 **See you later.**

 **Greed.**


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Hello all, hope you've been well? Here is the next chapter of The Last King I hope you all enjoy it, it was a tricky one to write and I ended up cutting it short as I wasn't happy with the original draft. Even so I am happy with it now and think I made the right choice.**

 **As always if you have any questions PM me and I will get back to you when I can. Also I hope you all leave a review, they are very helpful when it comes to writing my stories.**

 **Also to save people confusion this is the first chapter 12, the previous update was an author's note announcing a poll. That note was deleted and this is the actual chapter 12.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones.**

 **( - )**

 **(Last Time)**

 _It had intrigued her, so much so that she had decided to investigate, which of course meant she would need to travel south, for she could feel through her connection to nature where the man was. Not that that was a problem, the Wall of ice may protect the realms south from the land north, but the protections both magical and physical did nothing to inhibit her passing. The Children after all had helped in the construction of the Wall, she herself had actually been there at the time, eight thousand years ago, and had helped her kin weave the protective magic that they had then imbued into the Wall._

 _Taking a deep breath, the slightest of frowns marred the girl's face as she felt the power of nature flowing through her. The magic of this land seemed weaker than she remembered, diluted almost. It was a strange feeling, but not a problem, as long as she retained her connection to nature she would never be powerless._

 _Shifting delicately on the branch, Leaf, for that was her name in the tongue of men, once again shifted into the form of a hawk. With this form being a useful one, as it allowed her to soar high above humans and their settlements, and travel vast swathes of land with ease._

 _Soon enough she would find this mysterious man, and then she could try to work out just what it was that made him so different, so inhuman._

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 12**

 **( - )**

 **(In the Tower of the Hand, with Ned Stark)**

"The seed is strong." Ned Stark muttered quietly to himself as he looked over the large and ponderous book that Jon Arryn had borrowed before his demise. The Hand of the King currently sitting at the heavy wooden table in the Hand's Tower, a grimace on his face as he once again looked over the same page of the book, the one dedicated to the genealogy of House Baratheon.

Those words, they were the last ones the former Hand, Jon Arryn, had spoken before he had passed from the world. From his conversation with Prince Tytan, he knew the young Prince seemed to think the words referenced Jon's sickly son Robyn Arryn, but Ned, he thought differently. Jon, the man Ned knew put his duty above all else, it was one of the man's most admirable traits. Which is why Ned suspected that Jon's last thoughts would not be of his legacy, which he no doubt loved, but of the Kingdom.

Over the last several weeks Ned, with Varys's frequent assistance, had gone over Jon's last movements. From visiting several of Robert Baratheon's bastards, one in a blacksmiths on the Street of Steel and one in a whore house, to borrowing a book from Grand Maester Pycelle entitled; The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, With Descriptions of Many High Lords and Noble Ladies and Their Children.

Initially he had been having trouble putting the facts together, after all nothing really made sense and Eddard was admittedly not the most cunning or shrewd of people. But thankfully some words Varys had said had helped him to connect the dots, the Eunuch having likely not realised the import of his words when he had briefly mentioned to Ned just how different Tytan was to his brothers and sisters, and how he truly was his father's son.

Those words, mentioned only in passing as they left the meeting which decided the Targaryen girl's fate had struck Ned. After all they were true, Tytan with his green eyes, thick black hair and powerful body was a perfect combination of Lannister and Baratheon, containing the best bits of both bloodlines.

The younger Princes and Princess though, Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen, they were Lannister through and through. With golden blonde hair, thin bodies and green eyes. The younger three were obviously lions, after all he had checked in the book and invariably Baratheon traits always bred true. So for not a single one of the younger children to have any Baratheon traits at all, it raised questions in Ned's mind, questions which Varys had only been partially helpful in answering.

Which is why he had had to come up with the answer himself, when he came to the realization that the youngest three members of the Royal family were probable Bastards. He wasn't sure who their true father was yet, but he suspected it were another Lannister which could mean a cousin of the Queen, though looking back on it Ned strongly suspected it might be the Queen's own brother, as horrifying as that may sound.

It was when he realised that, that Ned finally knew why Jon Arryn had died, and possibly why Stannis Baratheon had fled the Capital for the safety of Dragonstone. The both of them had obviously seen the same thing Ned had, and before either of them could act they had been silenced. After all if the secret came to light, it would not only lead to the deaths of Cersei and her lover, but also of the three younger children.

On top of that it would also through the Crown Prince's parentage into question, after all whilst Ned was quite confident that Tytan was trueborn, the same might not be said for the other High Lords. Plus there was Robert himself, the man had a terrible temper, and in the heat of the moment could make terrible decision. There was a lot at stake here, more than enough to kill over, even if it was someone as powerful as the Hand of the King.

The entire thing was a mess, and as he sat at his desk in the Hand's Tower, looking through the dusty of tome that was partly responsible for Ned's revelation, he couldn't quite decide what his next action should be.

A part of him wanted to go to Robert and speak the true, his honour demanded that he tell the King, his friend that much. But another part of him feared that doing so could destabilize the Kingdom, after all the King might deem it that all of his children are Bastards and cast them all out, including his trueborn son Tytan, a man who had the potential to be a good King.

On top of that there was Tytan himself, how would he react to the revelation, that his siblings are likely the product of incest. Ned knew well enough that Tytan wasn't all that fond of him, more than that he had also come to realise how unpredictable and ruthless the Crown Prince could be. The man was as powerful and untamable as the sea, there was no way Ned could predict his reaction.

This meant that in the end, Ned just wasn't sure what he should do, should he go with his heart and do what his honour demanded of him. Or should he go with his head and resign his post as Hand and head back to Winterfell, after all Stannis likely had the right idea. If someone as important as Jon Arryn, the Former Hand, could be killed off, then it was likely that anybody else who knew the secret was in danger as well. With that danger possibly spreading to his family if he was not careful.

What made things even more complicated was the fact that Robert was currently out of the Capital, the King having left only a few days after the Council Meeting, so he could 'kill tings and clear his head'. Which left Tytan sitting the throne temporarily, and Ned in a bit of a quandary as to what he should do next.

Letting out a sigh, Ned sat back in his chair his eyes closed as he pondered over what the future may hold and what he should do next with the information he now possessed. Sooner or later he would have to act, he could only hope he made the right choice when he did.

 **( - )**

 **(In the Throne Room, with Tytan)**

An amused smile passed across Tytan's face as he leant back in the Iron Throne, his hands idly resting on the arms of the throne, showing no discomfort despite the fact the gaudy chair was forged by combining hundreds of iron swords taken from fallen warrior into a single, uncomfortable chair.

Shifting on his seat, Tytan lazily looked over the crowd of petitioners in the hall, and past his guardsmen lining the wall and the front of the dais he was sat on. With his personal guard, like Ubba and Ivar standing fully armed and armoured around him, his loyal men as ever protecting him.

Looking away from the crowded hall, Tytan's gaze instead came to rest on his Uncle, Tyrian, as he waddled down the hall. Resplendent in a red leather doublet with the golden Lannister lion on and a pair of black breeches. The man looking none the worse for his journey, back form the Wall, if anything the man looked more motivated than Tytan had ever seen him as he made his way towards the throne.

"Uncle, I see you're back from your expedition to the Wall." Tytan said easily, watching as the crowd parted at his words, his Uncle taking advantage of that as he walked to where Tytan was sat. The Imp's eyes wandering over the smartly dressed Tytan and his personal guards including Tyrian's brother Jamie, who as always was stood at Tytan's side, an easy smile on his face and his hand resting broadly on the hilt of his golden sword.

"Why Nephew, am I to take it that you've missed me?" Tytan asked glibly as he came to a halt in front of Tytan's throne, giving the younger man a short bow as he did so, even as he sent Jamie a smirk, receiving one in return.

"Like a hole in the head." Tytan replied dryly, though he did smile slightly, after all he had missed the verbal sparring he and his Uncle usually engaged in. "That being said, I'm surprised you came here. I would have thought you'd be several cups into your wine and trying to get balls deep in a whore by now?"

"All in good time, all in good time." Tyrian replied in amusement, showing no shame that that was probably true. "But no, I heard you were on the throne and so I decided to come to petition you."

"Oh?" Tytan asked, leaning forward in interest as he ignored the muttering from the rest of the hall. The rest of the room either being minor nobles or smallfolk who had come to him with petitions, or the more powerful members of the Court, that were here to watch, either to alleviate their own boredom, or to spy out opportunities they could take advantage of to enrich themselves. "And what is it you want of the Crown, Uncle?"

"Faster travel between the north and the south for one." Tyrian replied easily, gaining the attention of the surrounding nobles as he did so, and garnering a look of interest from the future King. "Having just travelled from the Wall down to King's Landing I can safely say the journey is long, far too long if we wanted to transport goods, reinforcement or supplies up there in a timely manner. Travel between the Kingdoms as it is at the moment is primitive, and makes it so the different Kingdoms are isolated from one another."

"An intriguing proposition Uncle." Tytan replied a she leant forward in his throne, his gaze on his Uncle. After all the little man had picked up on a problem Tytan had noted but not had the time to look into. "I take it you have ideas for how travel between the north and south could be improved."

"A canal, or rather a series of canals, ones which can be used by barges to quickly and safely transport large amounts of goods, provisions throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Without the danger of pirates on the coast line, the unpredictable tides and storms, or the bandits on the King's Road" Tyrian replied simply, nodding his head as he saw he had his nephew's interest.

"Which would improve trade throughout the Kingdoms, and provide many jobs to smallfolk who we would no doubt rely on to do much of the grunt work." Tytan added, his brow furrowed in thought. It was a good idea, and practical too. "I take it then that you would be amenable to being put in charge of such an operation if the Crown were to approve it?"

"I would accept such a task, yes." Tyrian responded, a part of him actually looking forward to having something to do. Especially since he could make a name for himself with a job such as this, who knows he could be the next Bran the Builder.

"Very well, put together more through plans and present them to the Court. If I like what I see I will give you funding from the treasury to build a single canal as a test. If it's successful, we can then discuss further expansion." Tytan replied with a nod, not immediately accepting after all he wanted to see concrete plans first, ones he could maybe pitch in on. After all, although he was by no means an expert on canals, he was knowledgeable enough that he considered his opinion would be helpful. Plus he wanted to ensure his Uncle was serious and would actually do what he said, call it a matter of trust, but ideas and innovation such as this, was not what he had come to expect from the man.

"Thank you, your majesty." Tyrian replied, giving Tytan another short bow as he did so, before he turned to leave. The dwarf still feeling the aches and pains of his journey south, his very long journey, one which had allowed him the time and given him the inspiration to come up with this new idea. Call it odd, but spending months on your own allowed the mind to wander, and often times when this happened the strangest of thoughts and ideas could occur.

Nodding in response to that, Tytan watched Tyrion leave the throne room. A curious expression on his face, not really sure what had gotten into his Uncle. After all the man was a waster, he was a lazy, unmotivated, whoremongering drunk, or at least that was the opinion many, Tytan included had of him.

Don't get him wrong, he knew his Uncle was clever and quick witted, he just didn't expect this kind of innovation from him. Clearly getting out and seeing the Kingdom on his own, and out of the shadow of his family did him some good.

"My Prince, the next petitioner." Pycelle wheezed out from where he was standing just to the side, hovering as close to the throne as the old man could get so he could give Tytan his 'wise' and 'pertinent' counsel. Counsel which Tytan pretty much ignored ninety nine point nine percent of the time.

"Very well then." Tytan sighed before he looked at who the next person to petition him was, a minor noble by the looks of it, one whose name was called out but which Tytan barely recognised. Only knowing that he belonged to a minor House in the Vale.

"My Prince, I come from the Vale to plead with you to intercede on the people's behalf." The noble, a slightly overweight man with thinning brown hair and a patchy beard gasped out as he gave Tytan a very low bow.

"Oh? And what issue is there that would require me to intercede? Would this not be a request better put to Lysa Arryn, after all she is the current Regent of the Vale is she not?" Tytan asked, his brow furrowed as he looked this new petitioner over.

"That's where the issue arises your Majesty. The Lady Arryn, she's increased taxes in the Vale tenfold, almost overnight." The noble gasped out, the slight hint of desperation entering his voice now.

"Really?" Tytan frowned, his brow furrowing even further. The taxes for the Vale, like with the other Kingdoms hadn't been raised in at least a year. Which meant that this sudden increase in tax was imposed by Lysa Arryn herself, and not something that came from the Crown increase its own taxation. This to Tytan, didn't really make sense as House Arryn was a wealthy household and in no desperate need of money, or at least as far as he knew. "The Crown has not increased its taxes there?"

"No my Prince, but it is not unprecedented for a Great House to increase its own taxes on its land." Pycelle replied. "Though for it to rise so much is worrying."

"Yes," Tytan replied a scowl now very prominent on his face, after all what could the woman need all that money for. The only thing he could think of was for war, after all wars cost a lot of money, and increasing the taxes as she was could be her building up her reserves and her army. The only question was why, why was she doing this, it could be over the death of Jon Arryn, but by all accounts there's wasn't a happy marriage, which begged the question of what just the hag was up to.

"I will send a missive to Lady Arryn on the Crown's behalf, and will begin looking into this matter."

"Thank you your Majesty!" The man gasped out again, giving Tytan yet another bow as he backed away.

But this time Tytan didn't really pay much attention, as he instead pondered over just what was happening in the Vale and whether he should be concerned. After all with the issues arising in Essos with the Targaryen's and Dothraki, the last thing they needed was trouble at home.

 **( - )**

 **(In Essos)**

It was quite late in the evening in Vaes Dothrak when Daenerys was taken to see the dosh khaleen, the wives of former Khals who were slain in battle. She of course knew why she was being brought to see them, her linguistic skills had after all progressed enough for her to find out from her Dothraki handmaidens what the reason may be and what she was likely expected to do.

Which is why Daenerys was ready when she was brought to the dosh khaleen's sacred tent, and told that she must eat a stallion's heart, raw, whilst the dozen or dosh khaleen both young and old read the omens so that they could use their ',mystic powers' to foretell what her child will be destined to accomplish. A task which was as appetising and barbaric as it sounded.

Not that Daenerys put up that much of a fuss over it, after all she knew enough about the Dothraki culture to know that this wasn't optional. Plus with Khal Drogo and many other Dothraki in attendance, along with Ser Jorah Mormont and Viserys the pressure was on.

Which is why she was currently stood in the middle of the tent, clad in stinking horse leather garments and holding a chunk of raw horse meat in her hands. Hiding her grimace and ignoring the disgusted expressions on both Jorah and Viserys's faces as she went ahead with the ritual. Her swollen stomach, now showing the signs of her pregnancy as it poked out of her leathers, the bump now covered in the blood which was dripping down from the raw meat in her hands.

Closing her eyes for a second, hoping to centre herself, Daenerys then started off the gruesome task ahead of her, her face twisting slightly as she slowly began to eat the heart. Tearing into the bloody mass of raw meat, trying not to think about what it was as she chewed the tough, bloody meat and forced herself to swallow it. The taste was horrible, the texture tough and the smell foul, but she knew there would be consequences if she didn't finish, and for both her sake and the sake of her unborn child she forged ahead.

"So, she has to eat the whole heart?" Viserys asked, a grim look on the gaunt man's face as he turned to look at Jorah, his disgust intensifying when he saw the older man's nod. "Hope that wasn't my horse."

"She is doing well." Jorah replied softly, his own gaze on the white haired girl, the slightest hint of fondness in his eyes as he watched the progress she was making. She might be ill-educated and rough around the edges by the standard of the Westerosi nobility, but the girl had heart and a strong will. He doubted there were many noble women in Westeros who would be able to do what Daenerys was doing here and now, even if it was for their own survival.

"She'll never keep it down." Viserys replied dismissively, the distaste obvious on his face as he looked down on his sister. Not that Daenerys heard him, as despite his words she kept going, not stopping, even as the rest of the Dothraki savages began chanting in their barbaric, guttural speech. Quickly following after that the head dosh khaleen, the oldest amongst them stood up, her arms wide as she started to loudly proclaim something in the language which Viserys couldn't understand.

"Tell me what she's saying?" Viserys snapped, not missing the fondness in Jorah's eyes as he looked at his sister, but dismissing it for now so he could find out just what was going on.

"The Prince is riding. I've heard the thunder of his hooves, swift as the wind he rides. His enemies will cower before him. Their wives will weep tears of blood. She's going to have a boy." Jorah replied gruffly, his brow furrowed as he saw a smirk on Khal Drogo's face even as Daenerys continued to gorge herself on the flesh of a dead horse. With Jorah ignoring Viserys sharp intake of breath as he did this, his attention more on Daenerys than on the spoiled princeling beside him.

"He won't be a real Targaryen though. He won't be a true dragon." Viserys sneered in response, a glare on his face as he looked suspiciously at his sister.

Jorah didn't reply to that, even if he wanted to make a comment about whether or not Viserys himself was 'a true dragon'. After all both Daenerys and himself had engaged in such discussions themselves over the last few days, with the two of them speaking more and more as Daenerys question him over what he knew of Westeros, the Great Lord's and the Blessed Prince.

Eventually, after what seemed hours, but was probably more like a few minutes Daenerys finished the last of the heart, which meant all she had to do now was to try and keep it down.

Taking a deep breath, Daenerys suddenly convulsed for a moment, bending forward and gagging as everyone was silent to see if she couldn't keep the heart down. Her head was plastered in sweat, and her front and the end of her silvery hair were stained red from the blood from the heart, but even so she continued to try and keep the foul meal down.

Closing her eyes, Daenerys fixed her mind on her current goals; survive childbirth and her husband, raise her son and take the Iron Throne. With those thoughts in mind she willed herself to keep her foul meal down, regaining her composure as shakily stood up. Her gaze now fixed on the brutish face of her husband as he smiled at her, no doubt the large, violent man was happy to see that his wife was strong, and that she was able to successfully complete the ritual, after all that meant that his son, his heir would be strong to.

Before anything else could happen, the head dosh khaleen, a withered old woman with white hair and a weathered, heavily aged face spoke again, with the nearby Jorah translating for Viserys's benefit.

"The Stallion that mounts the world. The Stallion is the Khal of Khals, he shall unite the people into a single Khalesar. All the people of the world shall be his herd!"

With that said Daenerys then stood up, choosing to speak the brutish Dothraki language as she looked around at the occupants of the tent and declared that her son would be named Rhaego, in honour of her brother Rhaegar who was slain by Robert Baratheon. Hoping as she did so that she would be able to get away with naming her child, after all although she knew somethings, she didn't know enough about Dothraki culture to be sure. But despite that she was still willing to take the risk.

The Dothraki, both blood rider, dosh khaleen and others all then began to chant the new Prince's name, as Drogo finally stood up from where he was sat and approached his young wife. The hulking, heavily muscled man standing at nearly seven foot and towering over his young and short Daenerys.

Watching all of this Viserys scowled, his anger and hatred rising as he heard the people in the tent chanting the name of his soon to be born Nephew, and for his weak and pathetic sister. Already he could feel the tides turning as what little control he felt he had over the Dothraki eroded even further as his sister continued to rise to prominence, whilst Viserys just felt like a fool, one Drogo played when he took his sister and didn't pay the price he had agreed for her.

"They love her." Viserys said disgustedly as he watched Drogo lift her up like some valuable prize, even his people continued to chant and cheer.

"She truly has become a Queen today." Jorah replied, turning to Viserys as he did so, only to see that the older Targaryen had already left the tent.

 **( - )**

Ignoring the sounds of celebration and chanting behind him, Viserys quickly left the Dothraki's sacred tent and instead headed back to his own, almost breaking into run as he burst inside and grabbed his sword and strapping it to his side, before he quickly packed up a bag full of his meagre possessions.

With that done he then went to Daenerys's tent, bursting in without a care in the world and rummaging careless through her belongings, before he came upon what he was looking for, a closed wooden chest. Opening the chest, Viserys looked down on the three very valuable dragon eggs held within, enough to buy him a ship and a small army.

Taking a moment to marvel at the three petrified eggs, Viserys then grinning viciously, quickly making to put them in his bag. If he was leaving, he wouldn't be leaving empty handed, he would be taking as much as he could to re-compensate himself for the loss of his sister.

Which would start with him taking the petrified dragons eggs she'd been given as a wedding present, which is what he did now as he grabbed the green one and put it into his bag, before he could take the other two however he was distracted by the sound of someone else approaching the tent. The crunch of boots on the dry ground easily audible to the nervous young Prince.

Panicking at this realisation, Viserys quickly closed the chest and moved to the other side of the tent, grabbing the hilt of his sword as he did so, his eyes narrowing as he prepared to lash out at whoever it was, even if it was his sister.

"Don't let them see you carry a sword in Vaes Dothrak, you know the law." Jorah Mormont spoke up softly as he entered the tent, his eyes narrowing as he looked suspiciously at the Targaryen Prince opposite him. The older man currently wearing only a simply shirt, leather breeches and leather boots, the former knight having taken off both his armour and his weapon in respect of the Dothraki's laws.

"It's not my law." Viserys replied, his eyes narrowed as he stepped towards the centre of the room, unsheathing the first inch of his sword as he looked suspiciously at Jorah. He had seen the way the older man had been acting, ever since they had first arrived at Vaes Dothrak his allegiance had become clear.

Viserys wasn't stupid, he could see that much, just as he could see the man's obvious infatuation with Daenerys. The other two might have thought him ignorant, but he had listened in on their whispered conversations, both about the Iron Throne, and the Crown Prince. If his foolish sister wanted to believe the man's fairy tales that was fine, but Viserys wouldn't. Nor would he trust this man, this traitor.

"What are you doing in here?!" Jorah suddenly said, his eyes narrowing as he looked around at the ransacked tent, taking it in for the first time as he focused back on the guilty looking Prince.

"I'm leaving, Drogo has betrayed me and my sister has usurped me." Viserys snapped back, his grip on his sword tightening as he drew it another inch out of its scabbard.

"Very well, but why are you here, in this tent?" Jorah pressed, his gaze flicking down to the sword at Viserys's hip.

"I need money if I'm to leave don't I?!" Viserys replied sharply, not wanting to give away the true reason here, not to a man he didn't trust. "My sister has enough gold trinkets around here."

"Well those trinkets are not yours." Jorah replied, his eyes narrowing as he bought Viserys story.

"Everything that is hers, is mine!" Viserys snapped back, glad he hadn't revealed what he was really up to.

"Not anymore." Jorah said bluntly. "Now get out of Daenerys's tent."

"You swore an oath to me. Does loyalty mean nothing to you?" Viserys replied, unsheathing his sword now and holding it at the ready. He might not be a naturally talented swordsman like his brother Rhaegar was, but he fancied his chances against an unarmed man.

"It means everything to me." Jorah replied grimly, his hard eyes on the tip of Viserys's curved sword.

"And yet still you stand against me." Viserys said, his blade up and ready as he watched Jorah shifting around, moving into a defensive position even if he lacked his usual weapons and armour.

"Yes, now put whatever you've taken back and leave." Jorah replied one last time.

"I think not." Viserys replied sharply, before without another word he lashed out with his blade, forcing Jorah to stumble backwards as the blade cut through his shirt and drew blood.

 **( - )**

 **(In King's Landing with Ned Stark)**

It was a warm day in King's Landing, as it often was and Ned Stark was currently stood grimly in the godswood, his brow furrowed as he looked down on the white stump which had once been a majestic Weirwood tree.

Currently the northern Lord was alone, but he knew it wouldn't be for long. After all he had come here for a reason, as Robert was set to be back from his hunting trip any day now and Ned needed to have a frank conversation with the Queen before he returned.

"Lord Stark?" A soft, yet somewhat cold voice suddenly spoke up, interrupting Ned from his thoughts as he looked up, only to see a golden hair woman approaching him, her long red dress flowing behind her, as for once she appeared before him unaccompanied by either guards or handmaidens. Though as he looked at her he could see her usual entourage hovering about some two dozen or so metres behind her, well out of earshot. "I heard you were here, and that you had an interest in seeing me?"

It was a polite way for her to say it, but effectively he had summoned her here. Using the powers given to him in Robert's absence to do so, after all Prince Tytan wasn't the only one who gained more power and influence in Robert's absence, so to did the Hand. "I did, yes."

"May I ask, why here?" Cersei replied evenly, her voice tightening as he ignored her previous question about just why he had summoned her, and how the northern brute had the gall to do such a thing.

"So the gods can see." Ned replied bluntly as he turned away from the sad remains of the Weirwood tree and instead fully faced the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, taking a slow breath and steeling himself as he did so.

Cersei raised an eyebrow at that, but kept any mocking comments to herself as she instead studied the northern Lord, who as always was dressed in dark clothing with a sword strapped to one hip, curiously.

"I know the truth Jon Arryn died for." Eddard suddenly said, the comment coming out as bluntly as ever, the Lord of Winterfell not even attempting to be subtle about it.

"Do you?" Cersei asked softly, her green eyes narrowing as she looked at him speculatively, not giving anything away, not yet, "Is that what you called me for Lord Stark? To pose me riddles? If that were the case you might be better off talking to Varys or to my brother Tyrion, they know more about the things you speak of."

"Not Jamie?" Ned asked calmly, ignoring the way Cersei tried to implicate both Tyrion and Varys as he did so.

"My twin brother, he's is a strong and noble man, but not the best at riddles." Cersei replied dryly.

"Your brother?" Ned began, slowly, "Or your lover?"

Cersei paused as she heard that, her green eyes looking intently at Eddard, before she elegantly shrugged.

"Both. Since we were children together. And why not? The Targaryens wed brother and sister together for centuries to keep the bloodline pure. And Jaime and I are more than brother and sister, we are one person in two bodies. We shared a womb together, we came into this world together, and we will likely leave it together. When he is in me, I feel...whole." A ghost of a smile fluttered over her lips as she said that, the Queen not shying away from the truth, or denying it. Not when she could read Ned Stark like a book and see that he had already decided on the truth, and she knew enough about the stubborn Lord to know nothing she said now would sway him from that conclusion.

"My son Bran..." Ned said slowly, his thoughts going back to his early suspicions on how his son, as good as climbing as he was had fallen. He had no proof, and nothing more than a slight suspicions as he connected vague dots, but Cersei's slight twitch and facial expression cemented those suspicions.

Cersei tilted her head slightly as she heard the accusation, before once again assuming that Lord Stark knew the truth, and would not be swayed. "He saw us, it was an unfortunate accident, but action had to be taken however distasteful it might have been. Tell me though Lord Stark, do you love your children?"

"I do." Ned replied, not hesitating for a second.

"No less than I love mine." Cersei replied softly

Ned held back a frown as he heard this, knowing as he did what fate might befall her children, Robert had precedent after all, even now Ned could remember the King smiling down at the bloody corpses of the Targaryen children as they were laid before him. Still that was why he had called her out here today, as he hoped to bring this to a bloodless conclusion.

"And they are all Jaime's?" Ned said, before pausing. "Apart from Tytan?"

"Yes." Cersei replied, once again not hiding the fact. "Tytan was my first born, and my only son with Robert, and may the gods be thanked for that. After Tytan's birth and in the rare event that Robert leaves his whores for long enough to stumble drunk into my bed, I was able to finish him off in other ways. In the morning he doesn't remember."

"You've always hated him." Ned said, hiding his grimace as he heard that fact. Though he was glad to hear that he had been right about Tytan, that at least one child held Robert's blood, and that there was a trueborn heir to the Iron Throne.

"Hated him? I worshipped him. Every girl in the Seven Kingdoms dreamed of marrying him but it was mine by oath. And when I finally saw him on our wedding day in the sept of Balor, lean and powerful a true warrior King, it was one of the happiest moments of my life. But that night he crawled on top of me, stinking of wine and did what little he could do. And do you know what he whispered in my ear, he whispered the name Lyanna. Your sister was a corpse and I was a living girl, and still he loved her more than me." Cersei replied the first hint of real anger entering her voice.

"And yet you birthed him a son." Ned asked.

"Yes Tytan, is without doubt the best thing Robert has ever done." Cersei replied, her anger fading for a moment as she thought of her eldest, the slightest of smile on her face now. "You know when he was first born I thought that this might be it, that he might be the spark that ignited the passion and love in our marriage. Unfortunately though it was not to be, it didn't matter that I had birthed him a son, a perfect one, one blessed by the gods themselves, for he could still not stop thinking about his obsession, Lyanna fucking Stark!"

Ned flinched as he heard that, but didn't reply as he felt she wasn't finished.

"So when he once again lost interest and went back to his whores, I decided to wash my hands of him. I had my Tytan, he could drown himself in wine and whores for all I cared." Cersei replied, her mind drifting back to the anger and frustration of those days, when the only things that calmed her down were the solemn eyes of her son and the warmth of her brother.

"When the King returns from his hunt, I'll have no choice but to tell him the truth about you and your youngest children. You must be gone by then. Take Joffrey, Tommen, Myrcella away from here, away from Westeros, go to Essos if you must. Go as far away as you can, with as many men as you can, because wherever you go, Robert's wrath will follow you, not even Tytan or I can stop that." Ned grimly, deciding as always to pick his heart and his honour over everything else.

"And what of my wrath, Lord Stark? Do you truly think anything good will come out of this, out of any of it?" Cersei snapped, not really all that worried about Ned Stark's threats. After all she had Tytan, if Ned did succeed in telling Robert, and she and her children were forced into exile. Then it would only take Robert dying and Tytan becoming the new King for her and her children to be allowed back, their honour intact and their enemies ripe for the taking. She truly could see no benefit in Ned Stark's actions.

Even so, she wouldn't take this sitting down, not when Eddard Stark's words could so easily destabilise Tytan's rise to prominence. Tytan might be trueborn, but Cersei knew of Robert's temper, and of the vipers in the Court. It would do to leave her precious son vulnerable if she could help it.

"I've made many mistakes in my life. But telling Robert the truth will not be one of them." Ned replied, closing his eyes solemnly as he did so. "I will try to help your children as much as I can, for their sake if not for yours. But your time as Queen is finished."

"Oh, is it?" Cersei asked her tone cold, "Did you know when you play the game of thrones, you either win or you die. There is no middle ground."

Ned opened his eyes and looked at her coolly as she said that. "Is that a threat?"

"More of a warning." Cersei replied, before she looked at him curiously, already suspecting the answer but wanting confirmation. "And what of Tytan in all of this? What of my eldest?"

"He is trueborn, and I will tell Robert such. He will be shamed by your actions, and no doubt disgusted. But he will sit the throne, and I will help him however I can." Ned replied, internally wincing at the thought of having to tell the Crown Prince of his mother's crimes.

Cersei narrowed her eyes at that, a part of her uncertain about what Tytan's reaction would be. Would he believe Ned Stark's story, or would he reject it. Either way a plan had already come to Cersei's mind, she wouldn't leave any of this to chance, she knew how terrible Robert's temper could be.

"You're playing a dangerous game Eddard Stark." Cersei said softly, her cold green eyes meeting his stoic grey ones for a moment, before she turned and swept away. Leaving behind her a conflicted Eddard Stark, one who even now was wondering whether he had just done the right thing, or whether he had just made a horrible mistake.

 **( - )**

 **AN: So that's it what do you all think? I hope you enjoyed it. I know I might be getting some questions about Ned Stark's actions in this chapter, which are the same as canon, but that is because Percy's presence has not altered Ned's personality nor his sense of honour. Which is what leads him to both warning Cersei of his actions so she can save her children and telling Robert what's happened. The only difference now is that their is a true heir that Ned knows about.**

 **That being said there are differences else where, both in the Kingdom at large as Tyrion, back from his trip uncaptured and no longer suffocated by his terrible family has started to spread his wings so to speak. Also Viserys has gotten wise to Jorah's loyalties early on due to Daenrys's curiosity about Tytan, which has led to him acting in a different manner to before. Suffice to say I have plenty of plans for what is to happen and the deviations form canon will only continue.**

 **Hope you all enjoyed the story and leave a review at the end.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Greed720**


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: Hey everyone just doing a quick update here as I am watching the England game tonight. Either way here is Chapter 13, unlucky for some, but I personally think its a pretty good chapter. Hope everyone enjoys it, there is a lot of stuff happening in it so make sure to read closely.**

 **Hope you all enjoy the chapter and please leave a review at the end. Also again thank you everyone for all of your support.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones, even if I wished I did.**

 **( - )**

 **(Last Time)**

 _Ned opened his eyes and looked at her coolly as she said that. "Is that a threat?"_

 _"_ _More of a warning." Cersei replied, before she looked at him curiously, already suspecting the answer but wanting confirmation. "And what of Tytan in all of this? What of my eldest?"_

 _"_ _He is trueborn, and I will tell Robert such. He will be shamed by your actions, and no doubt disgusted. But he will sit the throne, and I will help him however I can." Ned replied, internally wincing at the thought of having to tell the Crown Prince of his mother's crimes._

 _Cersei narrowed her eyes at that, a part of her uncertain about what Tytan's reaction would be. Would he believe Ned Stark's story, or would he reject it. Either way a plan had already come to Cersei's mind, she wouldn't leave any of this to chance, she knew how terrible Robert's temper could be._

 _"_ _You're playing a dangerous game Eddard Stark." Cersei said softly, her cold green eyes meeting his stoic grey ones for a moment, before she turned and swept away. Leaving behind her a conflicted Eddard Stark, one who even now was wondering whether he had just done the right thing, or whether he had just made a horrible mistake._

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 13**

 **( - )**

 **(With Daenerys in Essos)**

There was a worried expression on Daenerys Targaryen's face as she paced backwards and forwards within her tent, her violet eyes occasionally flicking over to the carved wooden box resting on a nearby table. The chest and the three petrified dragon eggs that it had once held had been a wedding present from Illyrio Mopatis. Now though the chest only two of the dragon eggs, the red and the black one, with the third petrified egg, the green one having been stolen the night before by her brother Viserys.

Unfortunately though stealing wasn't the only crime her brother had committed that night, after all he'd also been caught in the act of stealing from her, and had responded by attacking the unarmed and unarmoured Ser Jorah Mormont. This for Daenerys was one of the main reasons for her concern at the moment, after all the petrified dragon eggs, as intriguing and fascinating as she found them were merely expensive and decorative baubles, Ser Jorah however was her friend, and also her only connection to Westeros and the throne which belonged to her family. A throne that she one day hopped to sit in, with her son sitting in it after her.

Currently Daenerys was in her private tent by herself, worrying away as she impatiently waited for the Dothraki healers to tell her whether Jorah would live, or whether the wound inflicted was too grievous and would take his life.

So far it had been a few hours since they had begun trying to save his life, after he had been found bleeding to death in her tent in the early hours of the morning, barely clinging to life with a fearsome wound running from his right shoulder to his left hip, a wound that had apparently been given to him by her brother before he had fled the camp and the retribution that would follow in terror.

Not that she was under any illusion that her craven brother would get very far, even if he had had a several hour dead start. No, her foolish brother had made the terrible mistake of spilling blood in Vaes Dothrak, the Dothraki's sacred land, and as such Daenerys's husband, Khal Drogo, had ridden out with a band of warriors to track her brother down and bring him back for punishment, and so he could atone for his insult to their gods, no doubt by being very painfully executed. Her husband after all was not someone known for his mercy.

A part of her wanted to pity the fate which would no doubt befall her brother when he was brought back, but a greater part of her found that she just didn't care what happened to him. He had betrayed her, he had abandoned her and he had wounded her friend, as far as she was concerned he deserved whatever punishment Drogo chose to give him. Plus she would also get her dragon egg back, and be rid of her abusive older sibling, someone who'd tormented her for most of her life.

Before the silver haired girl could think any more on the matter though, she was distracted from her macabre thought by the entrance to her tent opening as a tanned, middle-aged Dothraki woman entered the tent, her hands stained with blood and a distinctly disgruntled expression on her face.

"Well, is he going to live?" Daenerys demanded in Dothraki the moment she saw the healer, quickly turning so she could fully face the older and taller woman.

"He will live, for now." The healer, a middle aged woman with prematurely greying hair and strong limbs replied abruptly. Her attitude somewhat dismissive as she looked around the tent and realised Daenerys was the only one inside, with this woman like the slaves that attended Daenerys being a true Dothraki woman, rough, tough and completely indifferent to things like propriety.

Daenerys though ignored this trait, as it was the way many of the Dothraki women she had spoken to acted. Instead the young girl let out a pleased sigh as she heard the news, happy to hear that her friend/ confidant/ advisor would live. Before she could celebrate too much though, the woman continued speaking.

"There is a chance his wound might fester though, we've cleaned it and bound it. You will just have to hope the gods favour him." The woman forged on, an uncaring expression on her face as she discussed the fate of some Westerosi warrior.

"Oh." Daenerys replied, her smile fading now, before she could ask anything else the abrasive woman once again continued to speak.

"Also Khal Drogo has returned." The woman continued, her expression bland as she wiped the blood, Jorah's blood, off of her hands using the front of her own clothing to do so, as she eyed the pregnant Daenerys up and down.

"And? Does he have my brother?" Daenerys demanded, the silver haired woman getting a bit irritated with the healer's attitude now.

"No, he does not have the outsider." The healer replied brusquely, before with a brief nod to Daenerys she turned and left the tent, no longer caring to stand around talking to the weak, pale skinned girl now that she had given her the news on her friend and husband.

Daenerys frowned as she saw that, but said no more as she followed the other woman out of the tent, her gaze immediately finding her hulking husband, who as she looked at him, she could see was even angrier than usual as he dismounted his horse and marched over to her, his dark eyes fixed on his pregnant wife.

"My brother?" Daenerys asked quietly, the silver haired woman feeling a little meeker now her husband had arrived, the large man towering over her as he came to a stop a foot or so away his expression as rough and cruel as ever.

"Gone." Drogo replied, his voice deep and guttural and his expression even more angered. "We tracked him to a nearby settlement, he got on a ship. The men there said he was headed to Westeros!"

"He's going back home?" Daenerys asked in disbelief, unable to understand just what her brother was thinking, surely he knew he would be killed if he went to Westeros. Even now decades after the rebellion, the Usurper Robert Baratheon still wanted both of their heads on a platter.

"Yes." Drogo replied bluntly, before without another word he swept past her, shouting at his warriors as he did so, demanding that they start getting ready to leave, announcing as he did so that he and his Khalasar would soon be leaving Vaes Dothrak.

Daenerys twisted around as she heard that, unsure of where Drogo was planning on taking the Khalasar or what was going through the man's mind. Not that she was going to argue, she was still very much aware of her place in the Khalasar, she was Drogo's wife, her fate was tied to his. Which also meant that she could be put aside or killed if the man willed it and no one but Jorah would speak up in her defense. That or she could be replaced if the man decided he was bored of her and wanted a new woman to warm his bed.

Either way she was aware enough to know that she couldn't demand that they follow her brother, just as she couldn't ask that they stay longer so Jorah could recover from his wounds. Instead it just meant that she would have to get ready to leave with the rest of the warriors, and just hope for the best.

Scowling at that thought, Daenerys turned to a few of the camp slaves, the few people she could legitimately order around, commanding them as she did so to pack up her tent and belongings. She wasn't sure where they were going, but hopefully Drogo would stay true to his word and capture the Seven Kingdoms for the Targaryen's, after all Viserys might have fled, but Daenerys was still here as was her son and heir, the soon to be born Rhaego Targaryen.

 **( - )**

 **(With Viserys on the Narrow Sea)**

"Let me out! Don't you know who I am?! Let me out! Let me out!" Viserys shouted, slamming his fists on the barred door in front of him, his gaunt face tinged red with anger as he shouted and screamed at the men around him, like he had for the last hour or so since they had thrown him in here and cast off.

"Yeah we know who you are, that's why we haven't killed you!" A dark skinned man replied bluntly, a large smile on his face as he looked down at the imprisoned Viserys, before he turned his head and spat out of a nearby port hole. A deep chuckle leaving the large, gaudily dressed man's mouth as he watched the richly dressed boy struggle.

"I paid you, I paid you in good faith! You gods damned pirates!" Viserys shrieked, almost incandescent with rage as he thrust his arm through the bars of the door and tried to futilely claw at the man opposite him. A man who he thought had been an honourable merchant, one who Viserys had paid to take him to Slaver's Bay and as far away from the likely pissed off Dothraki horde as possible.

It had all gone so wrong though, after Jorah had confronted him in his sister's tent he had attacked the stupid man, cutting him down with his sword as he did so, only for him to later panic when he realised the possible consequences of his actions.

After that he had grabbed a horse and fled, not even sticking around to finish ransacking his sister's tent, not when he knew the Dothraki could be chasing after him at any moment. He had after all just killed a man in their scared land, and he knew the barbarians would not allow such an insult to pass, nor would they appreciate Viserys stealing from Khal Drogo's wife.

At the time it had seemed a grand idea, but once he had done it he knew he was fucked. Which is why he had fled to the nearest settlement with a port, riding as fast as he could, before trying to barter passage to one of the Slaver cities. Hoping as he did so that he could trade in the egg he had stolen for a ship and some enslaved soldiers, it wouldn't be much but it would be a start.

Unfortunately though he hadn't counted on the fact that the men he had engaged to take him to Slaver's Bay had been pirates, or that they would recognise his distinctive appearance and realised that he was a Targaryen.

"Yes, but other people will pay more." The dark skinned pirate replied with another grin, "And you know, you probably shouldn't have trusted a band of pirates…"

"Where are you taking me!?" Viserys suddenly demanded, his eyes widening as he heard the pirates reply, a part of him scared that he might be taken back to the Dothraki camp, though that didn't make sense considering they were on the sea and the Dothraki camp was some six or seven hours hard ride in land.

"Why we're taking you home of course. I'm sure Robert Baratheon would pay a pretty penny for you boy, he does have a hankering for killing Targeryen's after all. Besides who knows he might be interested in that pretty rock you were carrying with you too, what better place to sell such a gaudy piece of trash then in King's Landing?" The pirate captain replied with a loud laugh, taking pleasure in the loud and bratty boy's sudden terror.

"Y-you can't take me there, y-you can't take me to Westeros, he'll kill me!" Viserys shouted in fear, his previous anger and bravado now completely gone, and instead replaced with terror.

"You say that like I should care." The captain replied with a sneer.

"Take me to Pentos, a merchant there, Illyrio Mopatis, he'll pay a vast sum for me." Viserys shouted out desperately, unsure if what he said was true, but hoping the captain might take him at his word.

"Maybe he will, maybe he won't." The captain replied easily, before he shrugged and sent Viserys a cheerful smile. "But Robert Baratheon definitely will, and I'm pretty sure a King can out bid some petty merchant from Pentos."

With that said the man turned and left, ignoring Viserys pleas as he did so, the man instead whistling jaunty a sea shanty as he went up on deck, pleased that he would soon be offloading the bratty Targaryen boy for some vast sum of gold.

This of course left Viserys alone in the bowels of the ships, his face pale and his body shaking as he sagged to the floor, uncaring of the fact he was sitting in around six inches of filthy sea water, as instead the only thing he could think of was the fate that awaited him when they got to King's Landing.

 **( - )**

 **(With Tytan in King's Landing)**

Rushing through the Red Keep, the servant's breaths came out quite ragged as he dodged around other servants and men at arms in the hallways, his mind focused on one thing, the task he had been given.

Without much thought the servant then quickly burst through a set of double doors, quickly leaving the keep as he jogged down a few steps, hearing the sound of clanging steel and shouts as he part ran, part walked the rest of the way as he finally found the man he was looking for.

"Prince Tytan!" The servant, clad as he was in Baratheon livery shouted as he ran into one of the training yards around the Red Keep, the one many in the keep knew was regularly used by Tytan and his men when they trained in the morning.

It was only as he burst into the small yard, that the servant quickly realised how rude he was being and that he was interrupting Prince Tytan whilst he was in the middle of duelling with his Uncle, Ser Jamie Lannister. The Prince in question currently rearing a mail hauberk, plate armour greaves and bracers and a simple helmet which looked to have been borrowed from one of his personal guards. Ser Jamie meanwhile was wearing his full Kingsguard armour, a golden hilted blade in one hand and a wooden shield in the other.

Currently the young Prince was in the midst of duel with the older man, his left arm held behind his back, and his right leg and arm forward as he used his longsword with a single hand. The Prince shifting forwards and backwards, his left leg slightly behind him and bent as he fought the other man.

Even as the servant watched he could see that Tytan was easily beating his Uncle back, using both his superior strength and skill to force the older man on the defensive. This though was likely what Jamie had predicted would happen, because the Kingslayer unlike Tytan had gone for a sword and shield combo and was fighting in a very defensive manner compared to the Prince's currently aggressive style of swordplay.

That's not to say Ser Jamie wasn't skilled, for the man wasn't known as one of the finest swords in Westeros for no reason, it just meant that Tytan was simply better than him. This of course was well-known to the other men watching the fight, which is why none of them showed any surprise, when upon hearing the servant shout, Tytan unleashed a fast kick into the face of Jamie's shield, sending the man staggering backwards.

After which Tytan moved in, easily batting Jamie's sword away, leaving him open for Tytan to step into his guard and stick his right leg behind Jamie's, after which he decked the older man in chest with the hilt of his sword. The blow knocking Jamie onto his arse, much to the amusement of the watching men, as Ubba, Matthias and Martin all handed over the gold they had bet on Jamie to Ivar, the three of them having bet that Jamie would have lasted twice as long as he had.

"Prince Tytan!" The servant said again, pausing at the edge of the training yard now as he sent the Crown Prince a nervous look and a bow, watching as the handsome dark haired man rested his sword on his shoulder and pulled the helmet from his head. A cheerful smile on the man's face, and a not a bead of sweat to be seen as he flashed his disgruntled Uncle a grin before he turned to look over at the servant.

"What is it?" Tytan asked mildly, before without another word he stabbed his simple borrowed sword into the dirt, before he rested his helmet on the hilt. The Prince's gaze turning curious now as he looked over at the flushed, red faced servant, aware as he did that Ubba was roughly pulling Jamie back onto his feet behind him. "I thought I ordered that no one was to disturb me whilst I am training?"

"My apologies my Prince, but Lord Renly Baratheon sent me. It's your father sire, King Robert, he has been gravely injured in the King's Wood and has just been brought back to the keep." The servant continued, once again giving the Crown Prince a low bow as he did so, after all he had seen the state of the King when he was brought back, and he knew that the man before him would very soon be crowned the new King of the Seven Kingdoms. Which meant it was even more important to kiss his royal arse.

"I see, you may leave us." Tytan replied calmly, his face expressionless as he gazed up at the Red Keep.

"My Prince…" The servant began again.

"You can ensure my Uncle that I will be with my father momentarily." Tytan cut him off, his green eyes now fixed on the servant, who as he saw the look gulped before giving Tytan another bow, after which he turned and fled back to the Keep, so he could go and inform Lord Renly of the Prince's response..

"Sounds like your father's on his death bed." Ivar spoke up bluntly, pocketing his recently won gold as he did so and approached Tytan, with Ivar like the rest of Tytan's men currently wearing his full armour and weaponry, after all they had planned to do some training in the yard all morning, and then retire to one of the Prince's brothels for the rest of the afternoon.. "Well fuck, I guess that means you're going to be our new King?"

"Ivar." Martin said, his gaze slightly reproachful as he looked over to the sly blonde.

"No it's fine, there's no love lost between Robert and I. Still I thought he would have stuck around a few more years." Tytan replied softly, finding as he did so that he really didn't seem to care when he heard his father was on his deathbed, the man meant that little to him.

"Tytan." Jamie said solemnly, standing now as he approached his nephew and put his gauntleted hand on his shoulder.

As Jamie did so a strange expression passed across his face, a conflicted one as he came to the realisation that his sister, Cersei, might have had something to do with this, she had after all filled him in on her conversation dangerous with Ned Stark. That being said she hadn't told him she was planning on murdering the current King, after all he would have had a distinct response to such a potentially dangerous and foolish plot.

"It's fine." Tytan replied brusquely, before he gestured for a nearby servant, this one wearing Lannister colours, to come over. "Get me a clean tunic and breeches, a pair of boots too. I want them in my chambers by the time I get up there."

"My Prince." The servant replied with bow before he hurried away.

Seeing that Tytan began to head to the Red Keep, planning to go to his bedchamber so he could strip off his foul smelling armour and wear something clean when he went to see his dying father.

As he did this his men dutifully followed after him, all of them being strangely quiet as the entered the Red Keep and saw all the servants and guardsmen rushing around. Each one of them walking in formation around the Prince, holding on to the hilts of their weapons and keeping an eye out. After all with the King so indisposed this was the perfect time for a coup, and considering the nest of snakes that was King's Landing, such a possibility should never be dismissed out of hand.

 **( - )**

 **(With Ned in the King's Chambers)**

There was a grimace on Ned Stark's face as he entered the King's Chambers and looked down on the state of his old friend, his mouth clenching as the stench of blood and bile filled is nose.

King Robert Baratheon, the first of his name, King of the Andals and the Firstmen, Protector of the Realm and King of the Seven Kingdoms was dying. Currently the black bearded man was lying on his bed now bloodstained bed, his face gaunt, his brow beaded with sweat and his eyes sunken. No longer did he look like the fat, yet gregarious King he had been only days before, instead now he looked like a man with one foot in the grave.

Looking down at him Ned could see the massive wound in the man's gut, caused when he was apparently gored by a wild boar. At a glance Ned could see how bad it was, the wound was deep, and from just a single look Ned knew there was no recovering from it, even now Ned could see fresh blood was seeping through the wounds dressing. The King was not long for this world and everyone in the room knew it.

As Ned entered the room, he quickly noticed that the dying man was talking to his sons, Joffrey and Tommen, with Tytan having not come by yet. With Robert telling the two of them in a raspy that he wished had been a better father to them than he had, which is why they had not turned out better men. It was rough, but the King obviously was trying to get everything off of his chest now before he passed away for good even if it was to apologise to his sons for his failure as a father. With the King's passing leaving his eldest son, Tytan, as the new King of the Seven Kingdoms.

Walking quietly into the room, Ned looked away from his dying friend and instead saw that Cersei, Pycelle, and Barristan were all already there, all of them watching as Ned entered the room, with him having left both Renly and his friend Loras outside. Renly having wanted to talk with Ned about something, quite urgently to by the sounds of it.

Making eye contact with the Queen, Ned knew almost in an instant that this had been no hunting accident, no matter what Renly had said. Just looking at her Ned knew that she had something to do with this. He had no doubt that this had been done in an attempt to stop Robert from finding out her secret, and thus stop him from punishing Cersei and her three youngest for their mother's crimes.

"It was my fault Ned, I had too much wine. I missed my thrust." Robert said with a chuckle as he looked away from his sons and saw Ned, a forced smile spreading across his face as he saw how the Stark Lord looked as grim and stoic as ever.

"Robert." Ned muttered, knowing as he did that this was likely the last time he would see his friend.

"Stinks. Stinks like death. Don't think I can't smell it. Ha Ha Ha, I paid the bastard back though, Ned, you should've seen it, I drove my knife right through his brain. You can ask him if I didn't, ask Barristan, he was there." Robert said ignoring Ned's expression as he instead continued on with his story, the last he would ever tell.

"I want the funeral feast to be the biggest feast the Kingdoms have ever seen Ned, and I want everyone to taste the boar that got me. Now leave us the lot of you. I need to talk to Ned." Robert said happily, before his tone turned gruffer as he tried to wave away the other hangers on, wanting to speak to Ned alone as he did so.

"Robert, my sweet…" Cersei began, her tone turning soft as she moved forwards.

"Out all of you!" Robert growled, his gaze turning angry for a second as he once again tried to wave them out.

Seeing this, and at a stern look from Ned the other occupants of the room filed out until it was just Robert and Ned left.

"You're a damned fool." Ned muttered as he looked down at Robert, both angry and sad at his friend's condition.

Robert sent Ned a bloody grin as he heard that, before his face twisted into a more serious expression. "Look Ned, I'm not going to survive this, I think we all know that much."

Ned nodded grimly at that, not wanting to give his friend false hope.

"That means that Tytan will be the next man to sit the throne." Robert stated bluntly, "He's a good man Ned, a better man than I. But I fear he's too young, especially if he is to rule in this nest of vipers. He'll need your help Ned, he'll need your advice."

"I'll do what I can Robert." Ned replied dutifully, even if internally he doubted the Crown Prince would need much help, the man was already probably a better ruler than Robert, and he wans't even King yet.

"Good Ned, and keep an eye on those damn Lannisters whilst you're at it, they already have too much influence at court!" Robert grunted out, his voice becoming weaker now. "I don't want them causing trouble for Tytan, not like they did with me."

"I will Robert, don't you worry I will." Ned replied softly, deciding for the moment that he would not burden his friend with the news of his wife's treachery. Not when the King was on his deathbed, no instead he would move quickly, inform Tytan of what was going on, and do so in a public manner so Cersei could not hide it. The sooner that venomous woman was away from Tytan and the throne the better, he could only hope Tytan wouldn't react badly when the truth was revealed.

"Now go Ned, bring me my son. I would see Tytan one last time before I pass." Robert muttered, waving Ned away as he did so.

Ned nodded as he heard that before he made to leave so he could find Tytan, patting Robert once on the shoulder in farewell as he did so, before without another he swept out of the room. Allowing Pycelle, Barristan Selmy and Cersei to once again enter the room, though only after he told the old Maester to give Robert some milk of the poppy to ease his pain.

 **( - )**

 **(With Tytan a minute or so later)**

It was about twenty minutes since the servant had informed him of his father's condition that Tytan, now clad in simple yet clean clothing along with a pair of leather boots and his Valyrian steel sword sheathed at his hip, marched through the halls of the Red Keep, his personal guard following after him in formation as he headed towards the room his father had been taken to.

It was as he was approaching the room that he saw Renly, Loras Tyrell and Ned Stark all waiting outside, with Ned looking like he had only just left Robert's chambers, only for him to have been immediately confronted by Renly and Loras.

"My Lords, Ser Loras." Tytan said loudly, getting their attention as he approached, noticing as he did so the reactions of the other men, both Loras and Renly suddenly looking both nervous and uncomfortable as they saw Tytan and his guards approaching. Ned meanwhile sent him a strange look, one Tytan couldn't' quite read, before he looked suspiciously over at Jamie, who as always was walking just to the side and behind Tytan.

"Nephew you're here!" Renly said moving over to embrace Tytan as he did so, something that the Prince allowed for the moment. "It is terrible news about your father, I mean we were hunting and he was drinking, you know how Robert could be, and there was a boar" Renly continued, rambling slightly as he tried to explain how the King had come to be in this condition, his eyes flitting nervously about as he did so.

"I see." Tytan replied calmly, before he looked to Ned. "You should probably head inside Lord Stark, my father would likely want to see you before he passes."

"I have already been in to see your father, he does not have much time left in this world, and he would want to see you before the end." Lord Stark replied softly, his expression turning grim as he did so.

"I will be in momentarily." Tytan said in response, giving Stark a curt nod as he did so. Noting as he did that Ned was likely one of the few people who were actually torn up over Robert's impending death, after all the King was Stark's friend, his friend who knew Robert in his prime, and had not come to know the fat, selfish slob of a man he had become.

"As you say my Prince, though you should not wait long." Ned replied with a nod, before he looked between the three of them, giving a brief nod to both Renly and Loras a she did so before he made to leave. "My Lords, my Prince."

"Lord Stark." Tytan muttered with a nod, both Renly and Loras copying him, even if the two of them did so reluctantly, likely somewhat dissatisfied that Ned had left before they could properly speak with him.

"Nephew…" Renly began again his eyes now on Tytan, only to be cut off by the Prince, who upon seeing Ned's disappearing down the corridor turned to look at his Uncle, his sea green eyes sharpening.

"I don't want your condolences right now Uncle." Tytan said, his tone suddenly sharp and biting. "Instead I will take your pledge of fealty, here and now."

"Surely there will be time for that later." Renly replied, shifting uncomfortably as he did so.

"There is time for it now, my father is on his deathbed and I am the one who will be succeeding him. As such I want you both to bend the knee." Tytan replied, his voice hard and his hand coming to rest lazily on the hilt of the sword he had strapped to his waist. He had never trusted his Uncle, he was a fool of a man and far too ambitious for Tytan's liking, which when combined with his Lordship of the Stormlands and his close connections to the Tyrells made him dangerous. Especially now when the Kingdom was unstable due to the King's condition.

"Of course." Renly said, his tone coming out reluctant as he noticed the guardsmen behind his nephew shifting around, and the skilled and deadly Prince resting his hand on his sword. Seeing this Renly fell down onto one knee before Tytan, Loras copying him as he did so, his survival instincts overtaking his courage at the moment, even if he doubted his nephew would so blatantly shed blood in the halls of the Red Keep.

"I pledge my loyalty and that of my House to you, King Tytan Baratheon." Renly said, his tone still reluctant as Loras quickly copied him once more.

"Good, now stand Uncle." Tytan said a forced smile on his face as the two men in front of him stood up, their eyes flicking over to the guardsmen behind the soon to be King once again as they did so. "In return for your loyalty Uncle I will allow you to retain your seat on the Small Council."

"My gratitude-" Renly began obsequiously, only to be cut off before he could.

"I will also provide you with an heir for the Stormlands, my younger brother, Tommen, after all considering your proclivities…." Tytan spoke up his tone uncompromising as his gaze shifted to Loras as he spoke, before his gaze went back to the Baratheon Lord. "I doubt you will have of your own, and since Tommen is of Baratheon blood, I think he will do an admirable job. I will send him over with a detachment of soldiers when I'm crowned, and a Maester to so he can be trained up for the role. Of course if you do ever have sons, well I am sure we can deal with that if it ever happens…."

"You honour me." Renly bit out, before once again bowed to Tytan.

"I do." Tytan replied with fake kindness, before his gaze turned to Loras. "And you Ser Loras, you will write to your grandmother and tell her that I will honour the betrothal to Margery Tyrell my father spoke of before, and make her my Queen, in return of course for the undying loyalty of House Tyrell. In fact I may even appoint a member of House Tyrell to the Small Council, though I can discuss that with your father and grandmother later."

Loras's eyes widened as he heard that, before he once again bowed low. "I will pass it on as you command, your Grace."

"Good, make sure you do." Tytan replied with a nod, before he looked at the pair his eyes narrowing as he did so. "Now then you may go, as I need to see my father."

"Your Grace." Renly muttered with another bow, before he turned to leave.

"Though I am afraid you won't be able to leave the Capital, Uncle, not until I have been crowned King and have had your official pledge of fealty in front of the entire Court." Tytan added on, noticing as he did how Renly stiffened as he heard that.

"As you say, nephew." Renly muttered in reply before he left.

"Jamie." Tytan said as he watched Renly and Loras leave. "Send word to Beric Dondarrion, I want all of my Goldcloaks on the streets in fully armed and armoured. On top of that I want the entire city locked down as soon as possible, nobody is to leave, not unless I give the word."

"I will see to it immediately." Jamie replied with a nod of his head, before he turned and marched away.

Tytan nodded at that, before he glanced over at Ivar. "If Renly tries to leave the Captial I want you to make sure he never sees another sun rise."

Ivar grinned as he heard that. "You can rely on me."

"I know, which is why I want you to see to it that a few other problems of mine are taken care of, after all now I am to be King their usefulness has come to an end." Tytan added on, knowing as he did so that what he was planning was ruthless, unfortunately though for the good of the realm he could not allow anything to stand in his way, not now, not when things were so potentially precarious.

With that said Tytan gave his men a few more orders before dismissing all but two of them to go about their allotted tasks. Knowing as he did so that he might be acting a bit paranoid, then again after centuries in Tartarus and years in King's Landing Tytan had learned that sometimes paranoia could save you a lot of trouble in the future.

With that said Tytan turned and went into his father's chambers, leaving his remaining guardsmen outside to guard the doors as he did so.

 **( - )**

 **(Inside the King's Chambers)**

Quietly entering the King's chamber, Tytan gave his mother a single nod of greeting before he turned his full attention to where his 'father' lay dying.

Looking down at the man, Tytan was surprised to find that he didn't feel a thing, neither grief at the fat man's passing, or pleasure. Instead he felt nothing as he heard Robert's rattling breaths, and saw his pale, sweaty face and the blood seeping out of his wounds and staining the bed spread around him.

"You look like shit." Tytan said bluntly, as he grabbed a chair and pulled it up to the side of his father's bed, taking a seat as he continued to gaze dispassionately down at the man.

Robert let out a weak chuckle as he heard that.

Tilting his head to the side curiously as he heard the man's raspy laughter, Tytan gave Robert an odd look. Death, it was something Tytan had long since become curious about, after all it was one thing he had never truly experienced. Sure he had walked through the underworld and seen the lost souls that roamed about in the Field of Asphodel, lost and unaware of anything, as well as those who were tortured in the Fields of Punishment for their crimes in life. But that was back on Earth, death here for all he knew could be completely different.

They had gods here, but were they true gods in the sense that Tytan thought of them, or were they merely made up by the population in the hopes of giving meaning to their meaningless existence. Personally Tytan liked to think that they were real, though as of yet he had seen no proof of that.

"Are you scared?" Tytan asked, his green eyes locked onto Robert's blue ones.

"Of death?" Robert replied, his brow furrowing before he let out another chuckle. "That's a pretty grim question?"

"And that's not an answer." Tytan responded softly.

"Then yes, I am." Robert finally replied, uncaring now as he just spoke his mind. "I'm shitting myself about what is to come."

Tytan nodded as he heard that.

"It's stupid really, I mean I've killed hundreds of men, maybe even thousands. Yet when I think about my death, well, I fear what will happen when the Strangler takes me, I've hardly been the best of men after all." Robert continued on, his brow furrowed.

Tytan shrugged at that. "What will be, will be."

"Comforting words." Robert responded dryly, an amused look on his pale face.

Tytan shrugged at that.

"Look, Tytan." Robert continued, his breathing growing softer as he felt himself beginning to pass. "I never really did right by you when you were growing up, I wasn't the father you or your brothers and sister deserved. But despite that you turned out well, very well, and soon enough you'll be the King, and I believe you'll be a great one, son." Robert muttered, his voice becoming quieter and quieter as he reached out with one of his hands, clawing at the air near Tytan as he did so.

Seeing this Tytan reached out and took his father's hand, feeling it weakly grasp his for a moment, before with one last great sigh the King passed away, his hand falling limply at the side of his bed.

"The King is dead." Pycelle rasped out as he shuffled over to the King's side, checking for a pulse as he did so, before when he couldn't find one he looked at Tytan. "Long live the King."

 **( - )**

 **AN: So Robert has finally dead and Tytan is on the way to becoming King, expect a lot of stuff to happen. We also caught up with the Targaryens and have seen how everything has gone to hell on that end to. Also now we are seeing even more deviation from canon as a strong heir to the throne shows his claws.**

 **Suffice to say there is a lot of stuff to come, all of which I am looking forward to.**

 **Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter and that you leave a review, and as always if you have any questions then feel free to PM me and I will get back to you as soon as I can.**

 **Thanks for reading and I'll see you all later.**

 **Greed720.**


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: Hey everyone, just want to say thanks for the massive support the last chapter received, and I hope you all enjoy this one too.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones.**

 **( - )**

 **(Last Time)**

 _Tytan shrugged at that. "What will be, will be."_

 _"_ _Comforting words." Robert responded dryly, an amused look on his pale face._

 _Tytan shrugged at that._

 _"_ _Look, Tytan." Robert continued, his breathing growing softer as he felt himself beginning to pass. "I never really did right by you when you were growing up, I wasn't the father you or your brothers and sister deserved. But despite that you turned out well, very well, and soon enough you'll be the King, and I believe you'll be a great one, son." Robert muttered, his voice becoming quieter and quieter as he reached out with one of his hands, clawing at the air near Tytan as he did so._

 _Seeing this Tytan reached out and took his father's hand, feeling it weakly grasp his for a moment, before with one last great sigh the King passed away, his hand falling limply at the side of his bed._

 _"_ _The King is dead." Pycelle rasped out as he shuffled over to the King's side, checking for a pulse as he did so, before when he couldn't find one he looked at Tytan. "Long live the King."_

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 14**

 **( - )**

 **(In Winterfell)**

It was late in night, and inside the keep at Winterfell the young Brandon Stark was tossing and turning in his bed, his brow covered with sweat as he shifted around uncomfortably, breathing heavily as on this night, like many others before, the boy was being plagued by dreams, vivid dreams of strange things.

At present the boy was afflicted with one recurring nightmare in particular.

In this nightmare he saw a large, antlered stag striding majestically through a dark forest, as if it was the King of its own domain. Only the stag wasn't alone in the forest, because as it strode through its domain, it was attacked by a golden lion which leapt on it from behind, capturing its throat between its jaws and bringing it to the ground. From there the lion quickly ripped the stag's throat out, after which it began to gorge on its meat, the stag's blood stained the lion's jaws as it ripped into its underbelly, rapidly consuming it.

As the lion was eating though, Bran then saw wolf stalking up quietly behind it, before lunging for the lion and snapping at its hind legs, trying to drive the lion of or kill it. The lion though was unbothered by this, as it instead just beat the wolf away, and returned to its feast, now nearly done consuming the carcass.

Only for it to then be interrupted by the roar of a dragon overhead, who upon seeing the bloody melee below, had decided to descend into the forest so it too could also feast on the now dead stag. Its presence scaring both the lion and wolf away from the stag's carcass, only for them to later put away their previous grievances and work together to drive off the dragon.

What happened next though was the very strange bit, or at least stranger than the rest of the dream, because soon after this the lion changed shape, its claws retracting and body shifting until in its stead there was a mighty black horse, one which charged at the dragon and forced it to fly away, it hooves shaking the earth as it charged, and its passing causing the winds to blow faster through the forest as a storm built up overhead.

There were of course other things going on his dream, a large squid crawling from a water course onto the land, a small stag enshrouded in fire running hither and thither through the forest at random helping and hindering all parties, even as a cold chill began to spread through the forest, tree trunks cracking and the ground slowly becoming covered in a thin layer of frost. As well as that there was the three eyed crow which seemed to fly above it all, watching but never interfering. That being said though, the fight over the stag's carcass was the most prominent part of his dream.

Sitting up suddenly in bed, Bran began to pant loudly as he awoke, his head throbbing as he once again woke up from his dreams, and once again all he could feel was fear and confusion as he tried to work out what they meant and why they kept assaulting him.

 **( - )**

 **(In King's Landing)**

The bells tolled long and loud over city of King's Landing that day, alerting all present to the fact that something had happened, something bad. Of course just what that was became quite clear when rumours began to circulate down from the Red Keep, that King Robert Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Realm and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, was dead, killed by a boar of all things whilst he was out on the hunt.

Upon hearing this the reaction from the people of King's Landing had been mixed to say the least, Robert after all hadn't been a popular King, more often than not he left the running of the Kingdom to other men whilst he whored and drank himself to an early grave. Despite that though there was still an air of sadness lingering around King's Landing that day, yet at the same time there was an undercurrent of excitement.

After all with the death of King Robert, that meant that his heir the Crown Prince, Tytan Baratheon, would soon become the new King of the Seven Kingdoms. Which for many was seen as a good thing, after all the Prince was supposedly blessed by the gods, and had long since won himself a place in the hearts of the people with his victories in tournaments and whilst fulfilling the duties of the King in Robert's stead.

As for the Prince himself, he was currently stood in the Sept of Baelor, a cavernous room that was a place of worship for the Seven Divines, the most predominant religion in the south of Westeros. Tytan though wasn't here to pray, in fact he had never prayed to either the old gods or the new, nor even to the Olympian Gods from his first life, not since he had first awoken in this world.

No, instead Tytan was in the Sept to watch as his father's body was cleaned and placed on an altar in the centre of the Sept, two stones, painted with the likeness of eyes, place on his closed sockets.

Glancing around the room Tytan gave the body of his father one last look, before he moved away, walking quietly along the side of the room until he came to a stop next to his mother, Cersei. The woman in question having just arrived in the Sept wearing a black dress, which only seemed to emphasis the currently pallid colour of her skin, as she glanced once at Robert's body before she looked to Tytan.

"Mother." Tytan muttered as he came to stand next to her, his gaze moving over to the golden haired woman, noticing as he did so the tenseness of her posture and the paleness of her skin.

The woman was stressed, Tytan could see that instantly, though considering the relationship he knew she had with his father, he was pretty positive that it wasn't over Robert or his demise, or at least not directly.

"Tytan." Cersei replied softly, shifting slightly so she was leaning against him, one of her arms gently looping through his as she clung onto his heavily muscled right arm.

"What's happened?" Tytan asked, getting straight to the point, as he looked down at Cersei, meeting her emerald green eyes with his own sea green ones.

"We need to talk." Cersei muttered back, her gaze flicking back around the Sept where she could see a number of other nobles dotted around the room, whilst priests hummed out their prayers and waved around incense.

Tytan nodded at that, before after another look at his father's now pale corpse, he turned away, not looking back as he instead guided his mother out of the Sept, his Uncle and two of his guardsmen, Ubba and Arthur, falling into formation around him. The Queen's own Kingsguard trailing behind them, keeping a bit of space between them and the Prince's men, after all they knew who the former King would favour, and weren't sure how they should be acting.

Guiding Cersei through King's Landing, the group quickly came to one of the gated gardens that were dotted around the Red Keep, the guardsmen and Kingsguard all moving to take up protective positons around the garden's entrance. Whilst Tytan and his mother entered, Jamie following closely after them his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword as his eyes occasionally surveyed his surroundings, though mostly focused on his sister and Nephew.

"So do you want to tell me what it is that has you so worried?" Tytan asked softly, walking arm in arm with his mother as they passed through the beautiful garden, Tytan being reminded as he saw the flowers, that Margery Tyrell would likely be coming to the Capital soon, after all he'd promised her grandmother, Olenna, that he would make the girl his Queen.

Ignorant of Tytan's thoughts, Cersei didn't reply at first, instead she just held Tytan a bit tighter, as if she were afraid of losing him. After about a minute though, she eventually sighed, looking to Tytan as she did so. "There is no easy way for me to broach this subject."

"Then just come out and say it then." Tytan replied, a part of him already suspecting what it was she might want to tell him, after all there was only one secret Cersei had that could cause her to act like she was, or at least Tytan knew of only one secret.

"There was a secret that I've been keeping for many years now, one which involves your younger siblings." Cersei began, coming to a stop in the garden as she turned to face Tytan, a look of extreme discomfort spreading across her face now. "It was a secret that if it came out, would endanger all of us."

Tytan cocked an eyebrow at that, he knew his mother was beating around the bush, and he wasn't going to let her. "Are you taking about the fact that Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen are all illegitimate? Or is it that for the past decade and a half, probably even longer, that you've been having a sexual and romantic relationship with your twin brother?"

Yeah, Tytan wasn't the kind of guy who liked beating around the bush, if there was something that needed to be said, he would say it.

Both Cersei and Jamie froze as they heard that. Cersei's eyes widening and instantly flickering around the garden, searching for anybody nearby who might have heard what Tytan had so bluntly just said, as she did so she also tried to comprehend just what her son had said, and how he had already known what her secret was before she'd told him.

Jamie meanwhile took a step backwards, his expression becoming tense and his hand resting defensively on the hilt of his sword as he gave his Nephew a nervous, maybe even scared look, as if he was scared of how Tytan might react, be it with violence or another way. Not that Jamie thought he'd have much of a chance defending himself if Tytan did just to lash out.

"Relax, there is no one within hearing distance, I've already checked." Tytan spoke up drily, after all he'd already strained his powers to spread his senses through the moisture in the air, using his water based abilities to feel for the tell-tale vibrations that would be present if someone was nearby.

Cersei relaxed minutely at that, though now her green eyes were locked fearfully on her eldest son, her expression aghast as she realised that he already knew their secret and now waited for the inevitable reaction.

"Nor am I going to run you through Jamie, not unless you give me reason too." Tytan then continued, his bored gaze moving to Jamie, who just flinched when he heard what the Prince said, his hand immediately leaving the hilt of his sword.

"You know?" Cersei whispered hoarsely.

"Neither of you are as subtle as you think you are." Tytan replied with a shrug, not at all bothered by their affair, after all he was a Demigod, and the gods were almost ridiculously incestuous.

In fact at Camp Half Blood, before he and Annabeth had gotten together, Percy had had a few short relationships/ flings with one or two other girls there, most of whom had been his cousins. Though it could be argued that technically since the gods don't have DNA that that was different, Tytan didn't think that way though neither did a lot of the Demigods, instead they just found it was best to just carry on as they were and not to think about it. Plus after a few centuries in Tartarus, and the one or two flings he had with the monstrous inhabitants that dwelled there, he really no longer cared about taboos anymore.

"And… and you aren't bothered?" Cersei whispered in confusion.

"The heart is a fickle thing, we don't get to choose who we love." Tytan replied with a shrug, before he looked between the two of them. "Though I would prefer you be more discrete, the last thing we need is someone else getting word of your… liaisons."

Both Cersei and Jamie shared a look at that, Cersei's expression once again becoming discomforted, even as Jamie ran a hand through his hair nervously, his eyes flicking away from Tytan nervously as he did so.

"What's happened?" Tytan asked, his tone hardening, along with his expression. In this moment more than ever before, Tytan felt his age, as despite Cersei being his mother he felt like the adult right now, an adult who was about to lecture his child for doing something very stupid.

Cersei looked up at him as she heard that, biting her lip nervously, before she shared a look with Jamie. "Someone has already found out, about everything…"

 **( - )**

 **(The Throne Room a few hours later)**

Tytan drummed his fingers impatiently on the arm of the Iron Throne as he sat upon it, his sea green eyes showing his growing irritation as he looked over at the rest of the throne room, taking in the hundred or so nobles, both minor and major that were in attendance, including Loras Tyrell and nobles from the Riverlands, the Westerlands, the Crownlands, the Reach, and even a couple of nobles from Dorne and the North.

Most of them were all of the men and women of standing that were in the Capital before Tytan had the city locked down, though a few had arrived since, with Tytan's guardsman, Matthias, having started allowing vetted people in and out of the city to ensure trade remained as frictionless as possible, as well as so other nobles could come to the city and their pledge fealty to the new King. Despite that though getting out of the city at the moment was still tricky, especially if you were noble or if there were more than a dozen of you.

Holding back an irritated sigh, Tytan instead continued to survey the room, seeing that his mother and the members of his Small Council, save for Ned Stark, were dutifully standing to one side of the throne, with the Kingsguard standing in front of the throne's dais.

As well as that he could see fifty or so of his Goldcloaks lining the sides of the throne room, all of them wearing their distinctive gold coloured armour and chainmail, and carrying either spears, or resting their hands on sheathed swords.

"Introducing Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, and Hand of the King." A servant suddenly announced, throwing the doors open as he did so and revealing the grim looking Ned Stark walking into the room, the man in question wearing his usual black and grey leathers, with a half dozen or so fully armed and armoured Stark guardsmen marching behind him.

Leaning forward in his throne as he saw this, Tytan cast an irritated glance over at his solemn looking mother before he looked back to Ned Stark, watching as the crowd parted, allowing the man and his guards to march up to the front of the throne. After which the man proceeded to fall onto on knee before Tytan, his guards acting similarly.

"Rise." Tytan said, gesturing for the man to stand as he did so.

"My King." Ned muttered, knowing as he did so that even though the man in front of him hadn't been coronated yet, that he was Robert's trueborn heir, as well as the true King of the Seven Kingdoms, despite the technicality. With this being something nearly everyone else had also acknowledged.

"So my Lord Stark, I take it that you are here to pledge your fealty?" Tytan asked calmly, looking more than kingly at the moment as he sat back in his throne. The future King currently wearing a beautifully crafted black jerkin with golden embroidery showing a lion on one side of his chest and a stag on the other, as well as fine black breeches and boots, with his sword and dagger belted around his waist and arranged so they didn't get in the way whilst he was sat down.

To finish off the look, he also had a golden, antler themed crown perched on his short black hair, with Tytan pulling off the crown far better than his father ever did.

"I did my King, though first there is something I would like to say. Something I believe you need to be made aware of now, in public, before it can be hidden away and potential threaten the integrity of your reign and throw the Crown and the Kingdom into disarray and disrepute." Ned then spoke up with a tone of finality, a look of firm resolve on his face as he met Tytan's hard green eyes with his stoic grey ones. He had chosen the path he would follow, and would not be swayed from it, for the good of the realm, and for his promise to his now deceased friend, he had no choice.

"Very well, perhaps we can adjourn to another room for now so that you can tell me what it is you have to say in private." Tytan said, giving the man a chance right now, for the sake of his children if not for the man himself, after all what was said to Tytan in private he could deal with quietly and hopefully painlessly. If it was said in public though, his response would have to be swift and strong, otherwise he could set a dangerous precedent, and might be seen as a weak King.

Ned frowned as he heard that, before he shook his head. "As I said before your Majesty, this needs to be said here and now in the open, after all it concerns both your mother and your siblings, and for the good of the realm and the integrity of the Royal Household it needs to be addressed."

Tytan grimaced as he heard that, his sea green eyes roving over the assembled nobles and guardsmen, before they landed back on Ned. The man had left him with no choice. "Very well then Lord Stark, air your concerns?"

Ned took a deep breath at that, before he spoke. "Jon Arryn, the former Hand of the King, was murdered, murdered by Queen Cersei, or on her behalf. Along with that I believe she also conspired to murder your father, Robert. All so she could maintain a secret, a dangerous secret that threatens the stability of your rule, the secret being that her three youngest children, Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella are all not only illegitimate, but also born of the incest between Cersei and her brother Jamie Lannister!"

As Ned finished speaking the throne room was quiet for a moment, before it erupted into noise, nobles shouting and swearing, some of them shouting Ned down, whilst other threw accusations Cersei and Jamie's way. For a few minutes nothing could be heard in the throne room above the shouting.

Though reactions could be seen, as a look of outrage spread across Cersei's face, with Pycelle looking similarly shocked and outraged, though for his part the old Maester's reaction was genuine. The other members of the reactions of the other Small Council members were more muted, as Varys merely looked on with an expression of mild surprise, though that might be more because of the boldness of Ned Stark's actions. Renly however just looked silently stunned, his eyes flicking from Ned Stark to Tytan in confusion.

Baelish meanwhile merely smirked, his weasel like face contorting in satisfaction as he looked up at Tytan hoping to see the soon to be King's reaction. Only to be disappointed, as instead of outrage, shock or horror, the King just gave Ned a cold searching look.

"Silence!" Tytan commanded, his voice loud and his hand raised as he did so, his Goldcloaks all slamming their spears on the ground to emphasis his order.

Moments later the throne room down quietened down, there only being a low level mumbling and grumbling as the many people present listened in, all of them wondering what the King's response to the outrageous claims would be.

As for Ned he just looked on stoically, now resigned to follow through with his decision, as there was no taking it back now.

"A bold accusation Lord Stark, very bold." Tytan said, his voice sounding out loudly and confidently throughout the large throne room. "And you'd better have some very compelling evidence for it, otherwise I will have no choice but to consider this an attack on the Royal family and the Crown, as well as an act of treason!?"

The mumbling intensified at that, all of them looking to Ned now, seeing if he could back up his claims. Especially since they all knew that the punishment for treason would either be a beheading or getting sent to the Wall.

"As you say my King." Ned's expression turned grim at that, even as his grey eyes moved away from Tytan and instead over to Varys, searching for support only to be given a blank faced look from the other man in response.

"Then state your proof Lord Stark?" Tytan said bluntly, his expression uncompromising as his gaze locked on Ned. "Jon Arryn was an old man, who was struck by a fever and died of natural causes, Grand Maester Pycelle was the man who treated him and can attest to that?"

The old Maester nodded along when he heard that.

"So why do you think he was murdered?" Tytan then continued expectantly.

"Before his sudden death, Jon Arryn had been doing some investigating. He'd tracked down a number of your father's illegitimate children and had borrowed a book on the genealogy of the noble families from Grand Maester Pycelle. In doing so he had come across the Queen's secret when he found that Baratheon traits like blue eyes and black hair always bred true, even in the historic liaisons between Lannisters of the past and Baratheons. From this he came to a conclusion, that your younger siblings, all of whom have golden hair, green eyes and thin builds could not have been Robert's children. From there it was only a matter of confirming who their father was, with the Queen herself admitting to me that it was in fact Jamie Lannister, her brother." Ned spoke up, his mind whirling as he tried to put together everything he had found out in to an argument that would convince the King. "With the Queen killing Jon Aaryn after he she found out about his investigations, and later conspiring to kill her husband after I confronted her with the truth and told her that I would be going to him with it upon his return from his hunt."

The onlookers continued to mutter as they heard that, even as Tytan gave Ned an unimpressed look.

"That's it? Is that all the evidence you have Lord Stark?" Tytan asked incredulous, making his feeling known to the crowd, all of whom seemed to reciprocate his feelings, or at least mimic them.

"My King…" Ned began again, his brow furrowing as he tried to speak again, only to be cut off by Tytan.

"Your evidence is flimsy and insubstantial at best. A book of genealogy can only prove so much, just look at me, I have green eyes and black hair yet can any here deny that I am my father's son?" Tytan demanded only to get silence from his question, after all Tytan practically looked like a younger version of his father. That could not be denied.

"And then just look at your own children Lord Stark; Robb, Sansa and Rickon, they all have the auburn hair, facial features and blue eyes of House Tully. Your other daughter Arya, and your bastard so Jon however have the grey eyes, facial features and dark hair of House Stark. Using your logic does that therefore mean that nearly all of your children are illegitimate, and that they should all carry the name Snow?!" Tytan demanded, his expression turning angry now as he thought on the fate his siblings would have suffered if Ned had told Robert, that is if Tytan didn't kill his father first.

Once again the crowd reacted to this, muttering about the King's words, as they all looked to the now visibly shocked Ned Stark.

"My younger siblings are all legitimate, of that I have no doubt. As for my parents' marriage, well it might have been loveless, but my mother has remained true." Tytan replied, lying through his teeth as he did so, but doing so convincingly. Plus he was the King, which meant in an autocratic society, that what he said happened, happened.

"On top of that my father died after getting gored by a boar, Ser Barristan Selmy can attest to that, and I doubt there is anyone here who can deny Ser Barristan's honour and integrity, and he was there at the time of my father's death!" Tytan continued, his gaze looking to the white haired commander of the Kingsguard as he did so.

"The King speaks true, King Robert's death was a tragic accident. There was no foul play that I could see." Barristan spoke up, his tone low and slow as he sent Ned and oddly disappointed look.

"As for Jon Arryn, well the fever took him, unless you have a better explanation?" Tytan demanded, now laying into Ned Stark as he ruthlessly tore apart the man's evidence. That being said, he felt no real pleasure in doing so, the man might be an ass, but he was an honest one, Tytan could respect that if nothing else.

"The Tears of Lys, a bottle went missing from Pycelle's stores, and Lord Varys told me that they had been used on Jon Arryn!" Ned defended, once again looking to Varys for support, only for the man to give him an emotionless look before he turned to the King and bowed.

"I had no such conversation with Lord Stark, my King." Varys said with a subservient bow, much to Ned's growing shock, anger and fear.

Tytan nodded at that, before he looked back to Ned. "And so now you claim that a rare and undetectable poison was used to kill the former Hand, with nothing more than circumstantial evidence to back up your assertion? In fact it seems to me like there would be no point in using poison at all if you wanted to kill the man, not when you could have suffocated him in his sleep, which many would have assumed was nothing more than an old man dying in his sleep!"

Ned opened his mouth at that, but no sound came out as he now realised the direction things were headed, his gaze moving from the King to the now hostile crowd of watching nobles, many of whom had started to mumble to each other, their sharp gazes locked on the floundering northern Lord. The snakes at Court had all sensed the blood in the air, and were now gathering together to take advantage of a wounded prey.

"But your mother admitted it to me?!" Ned tried to claim, his gaze moving to Cersei now, only to see the glint of satisfaction in her gaze as she looked down on him, a look of confusion, shock and horror on her face.

"And what evidence do you have of that? Was anyone else there? Or is this like your conversation with Varys, nothing more than a claim, one that the other person will deny ever happened?" Tytan replied bluntly, his expression now grim as he looked around the room.

"My King…" Ned tried again, only to be silenced by Tytan raising his hand.

"You have levelled treasonous accusations at my family, and have provided no substantial evidence to back these up. More than that you have done so in front of the Court." Tytan summed up grimly, once again not feeling any satisfaction at doing this, most of the things the man had said were true, but he didn't know how the game was played, on top of that he had attacked Tytan's family, and if there was one thing Tytan was, it was loyal to his loved ones.

Ned stood up straighter as he heard that, already knowing what was coming, especially now Varys had saved his own skin and betrayed Ned, throwing him to the hungry wolves.

"I have no choice Lord Stark, but to place you under arrest for the charge of treason." Tytan commanded, his expression stern now as he gestured for his guards to act. "Your daughters and household will be safely kept in King's Landing for the moment, and allowed to live in the Tower of the Hand until your trial. After which you have my word as King they will be sent back to Winterfell. On top of that your Heir Robb will be informed of what happened here, and will be invited to come down to speak on your defence if he wishes. Or if you are found guilty to pledge the fealty of House Stark as its new Lord."

Ned gave Tytan a stoic look as he heard that, even as he saw the fifty or so Goldcloaks approaching him, their hands on their weapons.

"Surrender yourself now Lord Stark, there is no need for bloodshed." Tytan spoke up, as he gestured for his men to arrest the Northern Lord.

"As you say your Majesty" Ned nodded at that, before he unbuckled his sword belt and handed it to one of his guards.

"Now take him to one of the noble's cells. I only hope that you choose to take the Black, Lord Stark, I would hate for the Kingdom to lose a man such as you." Tytan then commanded, standing up now as he did so, his expression grim as he knew he would need to send a raven to Robb quickly, explaining things before they got out of control.

 **( - )**

 **(In the Godswood, sometime later)**

A few hours later Tytan, still dressed in his royal regalia, save of course from the overly gaudy crown, was standing alone in the Godswood. His guards all waiting around on the outskirts of the wood, giving the King the peace and quiet he had requested.

Once again after wandering the woods for a few minutes, Tytan had found himself standing in front of the Weirwood's stump, looking down at it tiredly as he went over everything that had happened over the last two days.

After Ned Stark's arrest things had calmed down a little, though the Court were likely still muttering about it. Having that many people in the room had been a risk, but Tytan had been in the midst of getting a pledge of fealty from every House when Stark had turned up. He had wanted everyone at Court around at the time, as their presence would not only pressure reluctant people like Renly into giving the oath to him, but it would also make sure word of the pledge was spread around the Kingdom, making it even harder for those who gave them, to go back on their oaths.

Unfortunately though Ned Stark had been far bolder than Tytan had thought he would be, he hadn't been cowed by the number of people around, and had instead explicitly aired his grievances. That being said Tytan was satisfied by the way he had dealt with it, and from what he had heard Ned was teetering towards taking the Black and going up to the Wall. So that was good, Tytan would makes sure to give him that extra push.

Even so though he had already sent out ravens all over the Seven Kingdoms, getting ahead of the news before anyone else could so he could control it. After all he was a well-respected figure in Westeros, and people tended to put more faith in what they heard first. On top of that there was the propaganda Tytan had circulating the Seven realms, he had realised early on what a powerful tool propaganda could be, and had such begun using Baelish's old spy network to spread it around as far as he was able.

As well as that there was also the letter he had sent to Winterfell, in which he had explained Ned Stark's baseless accusation and put in writing promises of a fair trial, and that after this whole business was dealt with that he would send the rest of the Stark Household back to the North. Which he genuinely intended to do, as currently he had them all hold up in the Tower of the Hand, guarded by both the Stark guardsmen and Tytan's own. With all of them being free to continue going about their daily lives in safety.

He could only hope Robb accepted that and didn't do anything foolish, he couldn't afford for anything else to go wrong, not so soon into his transition to Kingship. After all if it did and he was challenged, then he would have no choice but to use a show of immense force to put down whatever it was and cement his reign, ideally though he would prefer to avoid such brutal tactics.

Letting out a sigh at that, Tytan glared angrily at the stump of wood, his brow furrowing and his hands clenching into tight fists.

He was angry at Ned Stark for putting him in this position, angry at Varys for pushing Ned in the right direction, angry at his mother and uncle for getting caught out, hell he was even angry at his father for being such a shit husband that his wife decided to cheat on him.

Gritting his teeth, Tytan was soon broken out of his thoughts when he felt the ground beneath him begin to tremble, and the leaves above rustling and the trees swaying, as in his anger he'd begun to draw on his Demigod abilities.

Tytan let out another breath of air as he realised that, calming himself down, as he remembered he'd ordered his most loyal servants to deal with a number of issues for him already. On top of which he would soon force Ned up North and to the Wall, and make peace with Robb, hopefully building stronger connections to Winterfell through their friendship. Then there was his upcoming marriage to Margery Tyrell, which would garner him the full support of the Reach. Thing weren't as bad as he made them out to be, he knew that, he just needed to vent.

It was as Tytan was thinking that, that in the trees above him a small figure prowled along one of the branches.

The figure was that of a girl, one who was both short and very lithe, with a thin but strong body, bronze coloured hair, nut brown skin and eyes like molten gold. Tilting her head curiously, the girl's inhumanly beautiful face broke into a slight smile as she looked down at the handsome, dark haired human below. It was the one from her dreams, the one she was searching for.

 **( - )**

 **(Elsewhere in King's Landing)**

Walking over to his open window Petyr Baelish frowned as he looked out over the hot and crowded city of King's Landing. His eyes trailing across the cramped, overpopulated city, as he heard the bells continue to ring out, still mourning the death of the old King, and announcing the upcoming reign of the new King.

Narrowing his eyes, Baelish scowled as he looked into the street and saw a squadron of eight Goldcloaks marching down the street in formation, spears in one hand and shields in the other as they patrolled the streets. This squadron was one of the many Petyr had seen out on patrol, in fact if Baelish was to guess he would assume that all five thousand plus Goldcloaks were out in full force today and would be in the days to come.

All of them patrolling on the order of Tytan, no doubt to ensure order was maintained in the city, and so that they could react instantly if something happened. It was a wise move, and one Baelish could respect, as was the idea about locking down the city. It seemed the new King so far had shown himself to be far shrewder than Robert had been, which would likely be good for the Kingdom, but bad for Baelish though.

For him it had been years since Tytan, then the Prince had taken over his holdings, using Baelish's crimes both financial and otherwise to keep him under control, or at least try to. Petyr after all had managed to continue some of his plans when the Prince was away and the guards around him were lax, mainly through using ravens.

That though had all come to an end all those months ago when Tytan had returned from Winterfell, since then Baelish had been practically under house arrest. He hadn't even been able to take a shit without someone watching him, much to his irritation.

This had also meant that he was no longer able to keep an eye on or control his ongoing plans, which meant some of them had outright failed whilst others had just gone to shit. Already he'd heard what was happening in the Vale, with Lysa Arryn, his onetime lover and erstwhile ally, having apparently lost what little grip she'd had on sanity. As without Baelish's guidance she'd thrown caution to the wind and had begun to 'quietly' build up an army in the mountains, taxing the people of the Vale and calling in her banners.

Other people may not be able to read the signs, at least not as well as him, but Baelish knew what the woman was up to. No doubt this was all some foolish plan to rescue him from King's Landing, or some other such bullshit. Either way Baelish didn't care, all he knew was that the stupid woman was cocking up his plans.

It was as Baelish was thinking those venomous thoughts, that he heard the door to his chambers open, no doubt it was one the servants with his lunch.

"Leave the food and wine on the table, and then go." Baelish bit out coldly, not even bothering to turn around, this though was mainly because he didn't want to see those damn smirks his old servants and whores had when they saw he was a prisoner in his own house. The very sight of them sickened him and made him want to lash out in rage, as they brought back memories of his youth and how he'd been looked down on and sneered at back then.

Baelish let out another sigh as he heard the door close, his mood darkening as he turned around, only for him to gasp in surprise when he felt something cold and sharp hit him in the chest.

"Urrk." Baelish gurgled, his eyes wide as he looked down only to see the hilt of a dagger resting against his chest, around the place his heart would be, a river of blood rapidly running down from the wound staining his fine clothes crimson as it did so.

Looking up Baelish saw the slyly grinning face of a skinny blonde man, one who was wearing Lannister armour.

"Tytan sends his regards." Ivar chuckled, before he twisted the dagger and wrenched it out of Littlefinger's chest, allowing the man to fall to the ground, a pool of blood rapidly expanding around him, even as his empty eyes stared straight ahead, no longer seeing anything.

 **( - )**

 **(Elsewhere in King's Landing)**

Shuffling around his chambers, Grand Maester Pycelle had a slight skip in his step today, as he pulled off his the chain denoting his seniority as a Maester, before he began to struggle with his thick black robes.

It was quite an exciting time for him, as King Robert was dead, one in a long line of King's Pycelle had served 'loyally', and his son, the honourable and blessed Tytan would soon be crowned, and Pycelle would be the one to guide him and reap all the benefits such a position would grant him. Lord Tywin had said as such after all.

Pycelle smiled to himself at that thought, pleased once more that he'd chosen the right side when he'd joined Tywin Lannister all those years ago, and let him into the city of King's Landing, practically ensuring Aerys Targaryen's death, and the fall of the Targaryen dynasty.

Humming to himself happily, Pycelle was caught by surprise when he heard a knock on his door.

Pausing in his attempts to disrobe himself, Pycelle shuffled over to the door before he opened it. A smile once again coming to his face when he saw the young, scantily clad girl waiting for him.

"You're early." Pycelle chuckled, before he waved the whore in, not at all displeased by the girl coming a little earlier than he'd expected. In fact he was quite pleased as he turned around and shuffled towards his bed, pulling off his robes once more as he did so.

"I'm sorry…" The whore said quietly from behind him.

"Not to worry girl, you won't hear me complaining." Pycelle chuckled lecherously as he finally succeeded in pulling off his robes, leaving the old man all but naked as he turned back to the young girl.

"Hn." Pycelle suddenly grunted, a look of surprise passing across his face, before with a slight gasp blood sprayed out of his mouth, staining his white beard red. Looking down Pycelle could only stare in horror at the blade protruding from his chest, before gazing up at the young whore in front of him, a look of fear, pain and confusion on his face.

"I'm afraid the King no longer requires your services." The girl then continued, her lips curving up into a smile as she wrenched the knife out of his chest, allowing him to fall back to the ground, a pained groan leaving his mouth as he died in a growing pool of his own blood.

Ignoring this, the girl instead stepped over the Pycelle's bloody body and instead began to rummage around his belonging, looking for anything valuable she could take before she returned back to brothel, knowing as she did so that she had a heavy purse of coins waiting for her when she did so.

 **( - )**

 **(Elsewhere in King's Landing)**

Scurrying through the dark halls in the dungeons of King's Landing, Lord Varys, the Master of Whispers, didn't pause for a moment as he pulled a dirty brown, travelling cloak tightly around him, its hood pulled up as he skipped passed the corridor where he knew Ned Stark was being kept, and instead headed further down, beneath the dungeons and into the vaults below.

A place where he knew the old dragon skulls that had once adorned the throne room during the time of the Targaryen Kings were kept, with King Robert having ordered them all torn down and left to be forgotten and gather dust after he had ascended to the throne.

Despite that though Varys knew that people often came down here, after both children and adults alike enjoyed coming down here so they could gawp at the massive skulls. The largest of which, the one belonging to the long dead Balerion the Dread, was big enough that a full grown man could easily walk through his jaws. In fact Varys knew that Tytan himself had been down here before, harvesting the bones for the hilt of his sword and his shield.

It was for this reason that Varys was making as much haste as he could as he hurried into the vaults, looking for the small secret passage he knew led out of the keep and onto the shore. More specifically it led to an isolated cove, one on which Varys currently had boat waiting for him, as well as a handsomely paid smuggler waiting to take him far away from King's Landing, to another port further down the coast where he could hopefully find passage to Essos and his allies there.

The reason for this of course was that mess in the throne room, Ned Stark for all of his honour could be a damn, blundering fool sometimes. His foolish performance back there had not only gotten himself imprisoned, it had also got Varys into Tytan's bad graces. Hence why Varys was fleeing the Capital, after all he didn't want that foul, magic using Prince coming after him.

Varys grimaced at that thought, blessed by the gods, what a ridiculous pile of tripe. The boy was no more blessed by the gods then Varys was, no instead he could use magic plain and simple, just like the Red Priests in Essos or the Sorcerers in Qarth could. Sure his abilities were more defined but Varys recognised it. How could he not, after all he'd once been the slave of a mage, a slave that was later mutilated and cast away.

With that thought in mind, Varys increased his pace, only for him to run into a pair of armoured guards waiting just within the secret passage, both of them seizing him by the arms as he automatically tried to pull away, his pale face twisting into a rictus of fear as he saw their armour.

"Lord Varys." One of the men said, Varys recognising him in an instant as Martin, one of Tytan's guardsmen. "You should know the not to trust smugglers, especially when they know a King can offer a much greater reward than a traitor."

Varys wasn't given the opportunity to reply, as moments later he was struck from the side and knocked to the ground.

 **( - )**

 **AN: So damn, a lot of stuff happened in this chapter eh? I think we can well and truly say goodbye to canon now!**

 **So anyway what did you all think? Hope you leave a review and stay tuned for the next chapter. That being said my next story I'll be updating will be my PJ/Avatar story, 'Carry on My Wayward Son', which I will hopefully get out by tomorrow!**

 **Thanks for reading, see you later.**

 **Greed720.**


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: So here is the next chapter, I literally wrote this in a couple of hours today and checked over it once, so if anyone sees any mistakes please point them out and I will get round to correcting them. Hopefully though it is fine. Either way I wanted to get this out after coming back from holiday, just because I didn't want to leave people hanging on for too long.**

 **Either way here is the next chapter, I hope you like it.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones.**

 **( - )**

 **(Last Time)**

 _Varys grimaced at that thought, blessed by the gods, what a ridiculous pile of tripe. The boy was no more blessed by the gods then Varys was, no instead he could use magic plain and simple, just like the Red Priests in Essos or the Sorcerers in Qarth could. Sure his abilities were more defined but Varys recognised it. How could he not, after all he'd once been the slave of a mage, a slave that was later mutilated and cast away._

 _With that thought in mind, Varys increased his pace, only for him to run into a pair of armoured guards waiting just within the secret passage, both of them seizing him by the arms as he automatically tried to pull away, his pale face twisting into a rictus of fear as he saw their armour._

 _"_ _Lord Varys." One of the men said, Varys recognising him in an instant as Martin, one of Tytan's guardsmen. "You should know the not to trust smugglers, especially when they know a King can offer a much greater reward than a traitor."_

 _Varys wasn't given the opportunity to reply, as moments later he was struck from the side and knocked to the ground._

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 15**

 **( - )**

 **(In King's Landing)**

Currently Tytan was staring at the tree stump in the centre of the godswood, a stump that had once been a Weirwood tree, also known as a Heart Tree to those who followed the Old Gods, because of the face that formed on its white trunk and the blood that dripped from its eyes. Looking at it now however, Tytan couldn't help but feel a hint of melancholy, after all once upon a time this tree had been sacred, but now it was gone, destroyed by the emergence of a newer religion, the one based around the Seven Divines.

Religious fanatics had destroyed this tree many years ago, cutting it down in order to try and destroy an opposing faith and enforce the influence of their own. Which was probably effective, because faith and religion played a large part in everyday life here in Westeros, after all from the poorest of beggars to the greatest of Lords, all of them put their faith in something, which in the south was predominantly the Faith of Seven, which the Septons took advantage of as they used it to both gain more power, influence and wealth.

Tytan let out a sigh at that, knowing as he did so that he was just distracting himself from what he knew was happening elsewhere it the city. Letting out another sigh, Tytan then made to turn around, knowing as he did that his sworn sword, Ivar, would soon be along with a report for him.

It was as he was doing this though, that something unexpected happened, a voice sounding out and instantly catching his attention.

"Hello?" A soft voice called out from the nearby trees, capturing Tytan's attention as he twisted around, his hand instantly moving to the hilt of his sword, even as he began to draw on the power within him, his sea green eyes narrowing as he twisted round and scanned his surroundings.

"Who's there?" Tytan called out, unsheathing the first inch of his blade, and beginning to extend his senses through the moisture in the air, the earth beneath him trembling for a moment.

"I am." The soft voice replied, causing Tytan to twist round once more, his gaze locking onto the source of the voice. His eyes widening as he found himself looking into a pair of eyes bright, golden eyes. Eyes which could only belong to the girl from his dreams.

"It's you." Tytan muttered, his gaze roving up and down the girl as she walked out from behind a tree, noting as he did so, her flawless, nut brown skin, her long, bronze coloured hair and her delicate, and unnaturally beautiful features.

For Tytan the girl looked as inhuman in real life as she did his dream, despite that though he was entranced, unable to look away as she prowled out from behind a tree, her movements too fluid to be normal, and her gaze too knowing.

"You know me?" The girl asked, her voice holding an almost musical and melodious tone to it, one which seemed to make the nature around her come to life and sing with joy.

"I saw you in my dreams." Tytan replied, fully facing her now, his sword forgotten as he instead just looked at the girl, searching for the words he needed to keep the conversation going. After all it wasn't every day you came face to face with the girl of your dreams, hence why he was feeling a little tongue tied as he drank in the sight of her.

"Did you?" The girl asked, before her lips quirked upwards in amusement. "How strange, for I too saw you in my dreams."

Tytan frowned slightly at that, unsure what it could all mean, after all he had dreams because he was a Demigod, or maybe because he had been a Demigod. It was all a little complicated at the moment, even for him. But that being said he wasn't sure why this girl had dreamt of him, it was almost as if someone, or something had pushed them into one another's path.

Pushing those thoughts aside for the moment though, he instead just sent the girl a crooked smile. "Well I suppose introductions are in order. My name is Tytan."

"No." The girl replied, her lips still quirked upwards in amusement, although now there was a hint of curiousity in her golden eyes.

"No?" Tytan asked, slightly confused by the response.

"That's not your name." The girl replied, her expression unwavering in her conviction. "Names define us, they hold a certain power, and the name Tytan although strong and powerful, is but a shadow of who you truly are."

Tytan frowned in confusion at that, knowing instantly what she was talking about in regards to true names, but confused about her words. On top of which he was now feeling a little wary about how she knew as much as she did. "I don't know what you mean?"

"Oh but you do, your name, your true name is emblazoned in the stars, it is not something you can hide, and not something you can avoid. It is the name of a hero, a name of a man that transcends humanity, you know the name I speak of…" The girl replied, moving forwards as she did so, her bare feet not making a sound on the fallen leaves as she just prowled forward with cat like grace, her expression unwavering a she gazed into Percy's eyes.

"Yes." Tytan replied, his brow furrowed. "But it is a name I no longer use, one tied to a previous life."

The girl looked amused at that. "A previous life? A life is built up of experiences and memories, if you were fully reborn, then that would mean that you would no longer have the memories of the life that came before, yet you do…"

Tytan tilted his head curiously at that. "There were extenuating circumstances."

"And yet that doesn't change the facts. Tytan is not your name, it is a title, no, it is a name given to you by your 'parents'. But it is not who you are." The girl pressed on, her golden eyes never leaving Tytan's form, as she looked at him as if she could see into his very soul.

"No, I suppose it is not." Tytan finally admitted.

"Then what is your name?" The girl asked, coming ever close to him as she did so.

"My name, is Perseus." Tytan replied finally, and as he did so he felt a sudden surge of exhilaration within him. Once again taking pride in the name he had carried for centuries, one which had put terror in the hearts of his enemies and given hope to his allies.

"Perseus." The girl replied, testing the name as she did so, before she smiled, showing off a set of bright white teeth as she looked to Tytan. "Well Perseus, you can call me Leaf."

"Leaf?" Tytan asked, his lips twitching upwards in amusement. "Is that your real name?"

"It's a rough translation. The tongue of man cannot truly pronounce my true name, not when spoken in my native tongue." Leaf replied with a nonchalant shrug.

"Your native tongue? I take it then that you are not human, a Child of the Forest then?" Tytan asked, his eyes burning with curiosity now as he looked at the smaller girl, noticing as he did so that she only came up to the middle of his chest, and had a very slight, and petit build.

"That's what the humans called us." Leaf replied easily, coming to a stop directly in front of Tytan as she did so. "And over the millennia we have come to accept the name, though it is not one of our own choosing."

"Then what is the name of your species?" Tytan asked, his lips twitching up in amusement. "After all I though you said names were important."

Leaf smiled at that. "Then I suppose you can call us elves."

"Elves?" Tytan asked his gaze flickering over to her pointed ears and inhuman beauty. "Yeah, I can believe that."

Leaf once again sent him an amused smile as she heard that.

"Ok then, now I'm curious. When last I saw you, you were in the land beyond the Wall, yet here you are now, so my question is, why are you here?" Tytan asked, meeting Leaf's golden eyes with his sea green ones, noticing a she did so how deep they were, and also how old they looked, even for Tytan who had lived for centuries.

"To find you of course." Leaf replied simply, before smirking a little bit. "I saw you in my dreams and I got curious, so I decided to travel beyond the Wall, for the first time in millennia, all so I could meet you."

"And now you've met me, what will you do?" Tytan asked curiously, finding it difficult to tear his eyes away from her.

"Now I've met you, I'm more curious than ever." Leaf said, her lips once again quirking upwards in amusement. "You're not human that much is obvious, but nor are you like anything else I have met before. So, for that reason, I believe I will remain here in the south, after all you are a mystery, and every mystery needs to be solved."

Tytan grinned at that, happier than he thought he would be when he heard that she was staying. After all it wasn't too often that he ran into someone who fascinated him so, nor could he find many people who he could talk to as an equal. Plus she was beautiful, intoxicatingly so.

"Well then, will you need chambers to stay in?" Tytan asked, already imagining the reaction he'd get if the nobles at court got a look at Leaf. Those who followed the Faith of the Seven would likely be in hysterics and calling her existence heresy, whilst the religion of the Old Gods would get a sudden resurgence, after all seeing is believing.

Either way it would be amusing, plus it would also give Tytan the opportunity to purge the entrenched religious order at the heart of the Kingdom, as any action against her would be an action against the King and the Kingdom. This was something Tytan could use to justify the seizure of the Septon's lands for the crown, the confiscation of their wealth and the imprisonment of their corrupt leaders. After which Tytan could then name himself the head of the faith and then use the religion as a propaganda tool, or something like that, he hadn't fully planned this all out yet.

Tilting her head as she heard Tytan's offer, Leaf once again smiled. "That will not be necessary, I have lived in the forests of this world for thousands of years now, and have somewhat gotten used to sleeping under the stars. Either way. I believe I will make my home here for now, and who knows maybe I will begin breathing new life into the trees."

Tytan glanced around the godswood as he heard that, before he shrugged. "If that's what you want."

Leaf's lips quirked upwards at that. "It will be sufficient, Perseus."

Tytan smiled slightly at that, before he could reply though he was distracted by the sound of rustling leaves and footsteps coming from behind him.

Looking back to Leaf, Tytan then could only watch as her body began to twist and contort, feathers erupting form her arms and her eyes becoming more avian, before within a few moments, in the place she had stood before, there was now a golden eyed hawk. One which took to the air seconds later, her wings brushing past Tytan as she soared past, causing him to twist around and look on in surprise.

"Well shit," Tytan muttered, completely taken aback by the sudden transformation, who knew he wasn't the only one here with unique abilities.

"Hey Tytan." A loud and familiar voice suddenly interrupted, causing Tytan to twist round once more, only to see Ivar coming down the path wearing his mail and Lannister armour.

"Ivar?" Tytan asked, his brow furrowing as he looked to the sly blonde man, before he glanced back out at the forest, his gaze immediately locking onto a large, brown hawk sitting on a nearby branch, its golden eyes looking over at Tytan in amusement.

"Just coming to give you the news." Ivar continued easily, looking over at the hawk too, before he dismissed it and looked back at Tytan. Noting the dark haired man looked slightly distracted, only for him to smile when the man's sea green eyes sharpened as he turned to fully face him.

"The news?" Tytan asked, tearing his gaze away from Leaf and looking back at Ivar now, before he gestured for the man to follow him, the two of them walking through the forest, before leaving it and entering the Red Keep, Tytan's guards, Ubba and Jamie both following him, their armour clanking slightly as they marched behind him.

The group of four deliberately taking a slightly longer, yet busier route to the throne room, all of them ignoring the servants and lesser nobles that passed by them, all of them stopping to bow to Tytan for a moment as they did so. "You said there was news, what is it Ivar?"

"I'm afraid we've uncovered a treasonous plot in the heart of the Capital, one carried out by three members of your father's Small Council, with two of the members having been found dead because of it. Murdered by their co-conspirator after their plot was uncovered by your Goldcloaks." Ivar replied loudly as he followed Tytan, noting as he did that the King took a particularly busy route through the keep.

"This is concerning, who are the dead conspirators?" Tytan said, with mock concern.

"Lord Petyr Baelish and Grand Maester Pycelle, your Majesty, they were both found murdered in their respective chambers." Ivar replied loudly, his voice catching the attention of some of the servants, knights and lesser nobles who passed by, all of them bowing to Tytan, and also trying to listen in to the conversation he was having.

"It is a pity they both died, I would have liked to look into the faces of those traitors as they were executed. I take it you've caught the other conspirator? And now know their motive?" Tytan asked seriously, coming to a stop now and fully facing Ivar, his guards stopping with him.

"Yes your Majesty, we managed to arrest the culprit as he was trying to flee the capital, using a secret passage to try ad bypass the lockdown." Jamie spoke up now. "It was Varys, the King's old Spy Master."

"Varys?" Tytan muttered, ignoring the murmur of the people around him as he continued to take part in this theatre.

"Yes your Highness, he's currently residing in the dungeons awaiting trial and full interrogation for his heinous crimes." Jamie replied with a nod. "Apparently the three of them were planning a coup, and manipulated Lord Stark like one would a chess piece. However when the plan failed, and after Lord Stark was arrested, when his treasonous actions failed to inspire the reaction they hoped, partly because he didn't say what they fully intended him to. Apparently after that Varys decided to cut his losses and flee, killing his two co-conspirators so they couldn't betray his secrets before he left, or at least he tried to. Unfortunately for him your prior orders to lockdown the city was still in place and he was captured, and quickly admitted his guilt in order to try and cut a deal so he could save his own skin."

"This is good news, I was suspicious of their motives beforehand. I am only glad that their plot was stopped before it could incite chaos and start a war." Tytan replied, hiding a smile as he saw the servants and lesser nobles all muttering to themselves. "Have you found out why they wanted to overthrow me?"

"Yes your Majesty. They were seeking to put a weaker and more malleable ruler on the throne, as oppose to a powerful leader like you, who they knew they would not be able to control or manipulate. Even now we have found ledgers detailing how Lord Baelish was using his position as Master of Coin to steal from the Crown. On top of which we've found Varys had Targaryen sympathies and was planning on eventually murdering the royal family and putting the unstable, spawn of the Mad King on the throne." Ivar spoke up, once again making sure that those around him heard.

The small crowd muttering to each other, some of them already slipping away to spread the news of the failed plot, and the treachery and deaths of three once powerful Lords.

"They were all traitors then?" Tytan spat out. "Very well then, increase the patrols around King's Landing and maintain the lock down. For the good of the people we will need to make sure we rout out all those involved in this treachery!"

"Yes, of course your Majesty." Jamie replied with a nod. "I will see to it at once."

Tytan nodded at that, before he turned and continued to make his way through the keep, the slightest of smiles on his face as he knew that the content of his loud conversation would soon be spread through King's Landing and be considered fact as it came directly from him. Within an hour he suspected the entire city would know, and within a day he suspected at least half the Kingdom would be aware of Baelish, Pycelle and Varys's treachery, as well as how swiftly they had been handled and the threat they posed put down.

Plus Tytan suspected that by the end of the day the story would be even more exaggerated, helped along by Tytan's reputation.

Tytan smiled at that, it turned out rumours could be a useful tool when it came to spreading the news you wanted to be spread.

 **( - )**

 **(In Winterfell)**

Far away from King's Landing, and in the north of Westeros, in the icy keep of Winterfell, the Maester of House Stark, Maester Luwin, quickly hurried through the cold hallways. The wizened old man pulling his black, woollen robes tighter about him as he hurried down from the ravenry, in one of the keep's towers, his destination now the main hall, where he knew the young Robb Stark would be holding court, filling in for the role of his father, whilst Lord Eddard was carrying out his duties as Hand of the King.

Ignoring the few greetings he received from men at arms and servants he passed by, Luwin continued to hurry, moving at a fast shuffle as he entered the hall, not even enjoying he wall of warmth that hit him from the large fire that burnt in the hearth at one end of the hall.

Instead his attention was focused solely on Robb, who at that moment was sat behind the large, wooden table at the head of the hall, wrapped up in a large fur cloak, and a cup of ale on the table in front of him as he dealt with the day's petitioners, his friend Theon standing close behind him, his hand casually resting on the hilt of his sword as he cockily looked around the room. The young Greyjoy enjoying the increase in influence he gained when his closest friend Robb became the acting Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North.

As for the other two young Stark children, Bran and Rickon, they were also both sat at the table, along with their mother, Catelyn Stark. The two of them both practicing their writing as they noted down what was going on around them, a duty Luwin usually did when Lord Eddard was taking petitions. But which their stern mother had volunteered them for, in order to free up some time for Luwin to go about his work, and give the boy's the practice they needed.

"Maester Luwin?" Robb asked, as he looked up at the Maesters arrival, his brow furrowing as he saw the anxious expression on the old man's face, and his hurried pace as he shuffled along, a rolled up parchment held tightly in one of his hands.

"My Lord." Luwin replied with a brief nod at the boy he'd seen grow form a babe, before he quickly approached the head table, not waiting for an invitation due to the urgency of the message. "We received a raven from King's Landing, and it has brought grave news."

Robb's expression hardened as he heard that, as too did the Lady Catelyn, both mother and son sharing a look for a moment before with a nod Robb reached out for the message, opening it up as he did so and quickly scanning through the contents.

Handing it over Luwin then waited patiently as Robb read the note, having already transcribed it to memory. Which is why he wasn't surprised when he saw Robb's expression becoming darker and darker the more he read.

"Robb?" Catelyn asked from where she was sat, her attention now on her eldest son's, along with the attention of nearly everyone else in the hall.

"Leave us." Robb commanded, his attention now on the Stark men at arms and the few remaining petitioners in the hall, some of whom had been waiting for hours to air their grievances to the current Lord of Winterfell.

A round of grumbling met that, even as the guardsmen began to move the commonfolk along. The room quickly emptying, until only Robb, his family, Theon and Luwin remained. The men at arms closing the door behind them as they left, leaving the once busy room feeling quite empty now.

"What does the letter say?" Catelyn asked her face paling as she quickly grabbed the letter form him, the moment Robb offered it to her.

"It was from Tytan. Apparently his father, King Robert, is dead, killed by a boar of all things, and he was has been named the new King of the Seven Kingdoms." Robb replied grimly.

"Well that's not too bad, I mean you and Tytan are mates aren't you?" Theon spoke up, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Surely having a friend on the Iron Throne is a bonus. Not that King Robert dying isn't bad…" Theon then added on when he saw Robb's grim look.

"Yes, I thought so. But apparently he has had my father arrested after he made treasonous accusation against the King's mother." Robb continued, his tone darkening and his hands clenching into fists. "Apparently father confronted Tytan at court, and made accusations, with no evidence, about the legitimacy of his brothers and sister, and the relationship between the Queen and her brother, Ser Jamie Lannister…"

"What!?" Bran snapped, his eyes widening as he looked to his older brother.

Theon also let out a sharp hiss, his eyes widening as the enormity of what Lord Stark had done computed.

"Robb's right, your father has been arrested and is currently in a noble's cell in the dungeons, awaiting his trial." Luwin spoke up with a sigh. "However the new King has also said that your father was manipulated by a member of the Small Council, and that he would do what he could for him as he knows that Eddard Stark isn't' a true traitor to the throne, and that he was instead just naive to the manipulation of snake's residing in King's Landing."

"Which means nothing." Catelyn suddenly snapped. "If Ned spoke treason to the King in front of all the noble's at court, then the only punishment he can give is either death or being sent to the Wall. Anything else and the King would be seen as either being weak, or expressing favouritism."

Robb scowled at that, but didn't reply.

Luwin however merely sighed. "We can only hope that Lord Stark takes the Black, at least then he can come back home to the North." It wasn't' ideal, but it would be better than death. Especially considering that Lord Stark would likely have a lot of influence at the Wall, enough that he could, to some degree, still remain a part of his families lives.

"What of Sansa and Arya?" Bran asked, ignoring the idea of his father either being forced to take the Black or executed, his tone filled with concern over the fate of his two sisters.

"They're both being kept in the Tower of the Hand, and being guarded by Stark men." Robb replied, calming down a bit at this, as he thought back on Tytan's letter. "Tytan has given his word that they will be returned to Winterfell after the conclusion of father's trial?"

"But can we trust him?" Theon spoke up with a scowl. "We could always call the banners and demand for him to be returned?"

"Silence you foolish boy!" Catelyn snapped, her expression angry as she glared at Theon. "Such an act would lead to the deaths of Ned, Arya and Sansa, and would then result in war. One which we would have no justification for and would lose, as the rest of the Seven Kingdoms would come for us, led by Tytan the Blessed, and bolstered by all the armies of the south!"

Theon flinched at that, before he looked down.

Sending him one more scathing look, Catelyn then looked to Robb. "You know the new King, do you think he is trustworthy?"

"Yes." Robb interrupted with a sigh. "Tytan is an honourable man, he will keep his word and return my sisters. But that also means that he will dispense justice too, which means father, if found guilty of treason will as you said, either be executed or sent to the Wall."

Catelyn Stark stood up at that. "Then we must help him, or at least convince him to take the Black."

"And we will," Robb replied. "Tytan has commanded that I come down South and swear fealty on behalf of House Stark. He also said I can speak up on my father's behalf if I want, and can then take my sisters back whilst I am down there."

"And you'll go?" Catelyn demanded. "The last few times a Stark went to King's Landing it ended in nothing but misfortune. Your grandfather and uncle were burned alive by the Mad King, and now your father has been accused of treason and imprisoned!"

"I trust Tytan." Robb replied bluntly, standing as he did so. "And so I will go!"

Master Luwin bowed at that. "I will see to the arrangements."

"Good." Robb replied with a nod, before he turned to Bran. "And whilst I'm gone you will have to take up the duties of Lord Stark in my absence. There must always be a Stark at Winterfell."

Bran looked taken aback at that, but still nodded anyway.

 **( - )**

 **(Back in King's Landing)**

On the busy docks of King's Landing, a large wooden vessel docked up on one of the many wooden pontoons that now extended out from the city's docks. Many of which looked to be new made, as did some of the other dozen or so vessels the sailors could see bobbing about in the bay, most of which looked to be war galleys, some of which were fully furnished, with furled sails, and ballistae on the bows, stern and prow, and sailors on board checking the lines.

Clambering down the shaky wooden plank, two of his sailors had set up, the captain of the ship, Xaro, a black skinned man from the Summer Islands, dressed in flamboyant silks from Quarth, and with a steel sword from Braavos, walked onto the wooden pontoon. His dark eyes moving from the busy docks to the mighty walled city ahead of him, a city which he could see seemed to be having a lot of work done on the walls at the moment, as craftsmen set up scaffolding and stone masons got to work with maintenance and repairs.

Frowning as he saw this, Xaro then looked back to all the recently and partially constructed galleys he could see floating out in the bay, as well as the half a dozen ones he could see being constructed further down the shore at a different harbour. The construction yard being just about visible behind the large stone walls of the harbour.

Immediately Xaro could tell that something big had happened, and recently too, as these ships looked very new, as did the ongoing repairs, which had been going on the last time he was here, though a lot slower and with only a handful of workmen, as opposed to the hundreds he could see on the walls at the moment, it looked as if someone had breathed new life into the city.

"Bring out the cargo!" Xaro shouted as he looked back at his ship, grinning when he saw two of his men nod before retreating below deck, his smile widening when he heard outraged shouts following this, before a filthy, skinny man was dragged up on deck, his lank, silvery blonde hair shining in the sun as Xaro's two men dragged him off the boat and onto the pontoon.

"Unhand me! Unhand me you filth!" The man snarled, struggling all the while to break their grip, before moments later he froze, his violet eyes now staring up at the city of King's Landing ahead of him.

"Welcome home brat," Xaro grinned nastily as he looked down at the now scared Viserys Targaryen. "I know a certain King who will be eager to see you."

"Stop, no, don't take me there! He'll kill me!" Viserys then cried out as Xaro's two men continued to drag him down the pontoon, the rest of his crew slowly disembarking now too, as several of them began to scrub the decks as ordered to, whilst others prepared to go to the market and get more supplies. Most however were given some free time to enjoy, and looked more than eager to visit one of the famous brothels in King's Landing.

Xaro however, Xaro was planning on making a visit to the Red Keep and to the King, after all he had a Targaryen brat he might be interested in, as well as a nice little keepsake the brat had been holding onto.

With that in mind Xaro pulled the green stone the boy had been carrying from his leather bag, his brow furrowing as his finger curiously stroked the stone's scale like pattern. He could only hope the King would be interested in this trinket, otherwise it would be quite the pain in the arse to sell it.

 **( - )**

 **(Beyond the Wall)**

As things were moving along in the south of the continent, in the far north, both Jon Snow, and his close friend Sam Tarly, were preparing to swear their oath to the Night's Watch, which since Jon prayed to the Old Gods, meant that he was able to swear his oath of fealty in front of a Heart Tree, one which stood in a grove just a few hundred metres beyond the Wall, in the icy, expansive forest that lay before the giant structure of icy. As for Sam, well he had decided to join him, as Jon was his only friend at the Night's Watch and for some reason he felt compelled to go through with his oath alongside his soon to be brother.

Joining the two young men was also a group of full-fledged Night's Watchmen, all of them wearing black dyed leather arm and thick black cloaks of wool. The half a dozen men all holding onto the hilts of their swords as they warily surveyed their surroundings, all of them feeling quite antsy to be beyond the Wall. Especially since the last scouting patrol that was sent out, led by the Head Ranger, Benjen Stark, never returned, with all of them being missing, presumed dead.

Arriving at the Heart tree, a Weirwood tree with the god's face carved in and blood coming from its eyes. Sam and Jon both took a knee, both of them feeling more than a little awkward as the men around them watched on.

"Here my words and bear witness to my vow. Night gathers and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no land, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glories. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness, I am the watcher on the walls, I am the shield that guards the realm of men. I pledge my life and honour to Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come." Jon and Sam then both spoke in unison, reciting their oaths as they pledged their lives in eternal servitude to the Night's Watch.

"You knelt as boys, rise now as men of the Night's Watch." One the Watchmen then said as both Sam and Jon stood up, the men around them giving a half-hearted cheer and clapping them on the back, their enthusiasm a bit more subdued than it would otherwise be as the dark forest around them covered them in its shadow.

It was as this was happening that Jon saw Ghost, his pet Direwolf, walking out of the forest with something in his mouth. The giant white wolf nearly blending in with its icy surroundings as it padded over to Jon.

"What's he got there?" Sam asked, his attention on the thing in the wolf's mouth.

"To me, Ghost. Bring it here." Jon said, waving Ghost over to him, with the wolf padding over upon his word, before it opened its jaws and dropped a twitching, severed hand onto the ground.

"Gods be good!" Sam exclaimed with shock, even as the other Night's Watchmen drew their swords. Jon however just looked at the hand, noticing as he did that it still twitched.

 **( - )**

 **(Further beyond the Wall)**

Far beyond the wall, further than the Night's Watch had ever been before, a large horde continued to shamble south. Its legions made up of tens of thousands of emaciated and frozen corpses, many of which were still wearing the rotten furs and rusted armour they had died in, an assortment of bone and bronze weapons clasped in their hands as they moved south.

The only sound the legion of the dead made as they moved was the sound of thumbing feet, rattling bones and the occasional call of carrion birds as they feasted on the flesh of the dead. Despite that though the legion continued ever southward, leaving the Land of Always Winter as they moved towards the warmer lands of man, butchering any living being they found, be they human, giant or creature. Each of their victims then being risen and joining the ever growing ranks of the undead.

At the head of this horde dozens of black armoured creatures rode upon the backs of undead horses. The creatures had desiccated skin as white as snow, glowing blue eyes and wispy white hair. Each of them, male and female, were clad in black armour, reminiscent of the kind worn by the Night's Watch in the ages past, and held in their hands were spears and swords that looked to be forged of pure ice.

Leading these white skin creatures was another of their kin, only this one rode upon the back of a colossal white spider, a crown of horns protruding from his skull as he stood on his mount, controlling the army of the dead with his will and terrifying magic, as they made their way toward the great Wall.

A blizzard of ice and snow forever following behind the legion, bringing with them a winter that would never end.

 **( - )**

 **AN: So what did you all think? I hope you enjoyed it?**

 **This chapter was actually quite important, as it not only moved the plot along, it also touched on an important aspect, the power of a name and the identity that's is connected to said name. I some people have raised question about why I changed his name, and that was for a number of reason, but it wasn't done on a whim.**

 **Also this chapter finally brings Viserys and the egg to Percy, which will be dealt with in the coming chapters. On top of that next chapter sees the arrival of Margery, with whom Percy will have an interesting relationship. Similarly he will have an interesting relationship with the shapeshifting Leaf to, who like the White Walkers I have taken some liberalities in regards to expanding upon her character and abilities.**

 **Either way the next chapter will have a lot in it, including some much needed interaction with Joffrey as the little shit has been absent from the last few chapters.**

 **Other than that I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and leave a comment or a review.**

 **Please check out my other stories too if you fancy.**

 **Thanks for reading.**


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: Hey all here is the next chapter of the Last King, I hope you all enjoy it. I would have had this out sooner, but unfortunately I was distracted by working on some of my other stories, despite that though I found the time to finish this off and post it.**

 **Would just like to thank everyone once again for all their support. I hope you continue reading and leaving reviews.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones.**

 **( - )**

 **(Last Time)**

 _At the head of this horde dozens of black armoured creatures rode upon the backs of undead horses. The creatures had desiccated skin as white as snow, glowing blue eyes and wispy white hair. Each of them, male and female, were clad in black armour, reminiscent of the kind worn by the Night's Watch in the ages past, and held in their hands were spears and swords that looked to be forged of pure ice._

 _Leading these white skin creatures was another of their kin, only this one rode upon the back of a colossal white spider, a crown of horns protruding from his skull as he stood on his mount, controlling the army of the dead with his will and terrifying magic, as they made their way toward the great Wall._

 _A blizzard of ice and snow forever following behind the legion, bringing with them a winter that would never end._

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 16**

 **( - )**

 **(In Essos, with Daenerys Targaryen)**

There was a desolate expression on Daenerys Targaryen's face as she watched the funeral pyre burning, her violet eyes quite glassy as she watched the flickering of the flames and black smoke rising into the air, the sickeningly sweet smell of burning flesh filling her nose as she looked on at the corpse, one which was now completely concealed by fire, forever lost to her sight.

From beside her she felt a large rough hand rest heavily on her shoulder for a moment.

In response to that, Daenerys grimaced as she felt the warmth and rough texture of the callused hand, she knew he was only trying to be comforting, or at least comforting in his own way, but honestly it wasn't helping.

Despite that though, she still turned her violet gaze upon the large man just behind her, her gaze meeting the cold, dark eyes of her husband, Khal Drogo, as he gave her a nod. A few moments later though, he took his hand off of her, after which he then turned and walked away, his handful of Blood Riders eagerly following him, none of them having been all that keen on being out here in the first place Especially since the spot they had chosen did not have much cover, and was therefore open to the elements on the plains.

With Drogo and his men leaving, this left Daenerys alone, save of course for her two Dothraki guards and two of her handmaidens, her gaze sad as she watched the armoured body of her friend, companion and advisor, Ser Jorah Mormont burn to ash. The wounds her brother Viserys had inflicted when he fled Vaes Dothrak, and their hard journey south, having both taken their toll on the older man.

The wounds he had received, having quickly become infected, and his fever having just as quickly burned through him a she passed away in his sleep, his last few fevered comments about his regrets and dreams of home, having gone unheard to all but Daenerys who had stayed with him whilst he passed.

A sigh left Daenerys mouth at that thought, after all she truly was alone now. Without the Jorah around, or her brother, she was now the only Westerosi in the entire Khalasar, which made her isolation only harder on her, especially considering the cultural differences between the barbaric Horse Lords and herself.

A hand moved down to her extended stomach at that thought, her violet eyes leaving the fire as she instead looked down at her baby bump, one which had grown even large ever since they left Vaes Dothrak.

"Khaleesi?" One of her handmaidens muttered, a pretty, dark haired girl from Lys said gently, touching Daenerys on the arm as she did so and getting the silver haired woman's attention.

"What Doreah?" Daenerys asked, looking over to the darker skinned girl as she did so, before she glanced to the other anxiously waiting Dothraki girl behind Doreah, anxiously wringing her hands as she glanced from Daenerys and then over to the waiting Khal Drogo.

"We will need to go soon, the Khal is already getting impatient." The slightly older girl said, also looking over Daenerys shoulder now and over at the impatiently waiting Khal Drogo, her brown eyes then flickering back to Daenerys as she gently gripped the silver haired girl's arm. "It's time."

Daenerys turned around at that before she nodded her head, giving one last look over at Jorah's funeral pyre as she did so, before she then turned and walked over to where her mounted husband and his Blood Riders were waiting, not looking back, as she instead just looked forward.

That being said she was already dreading the journey to come, after all her husband had got it in his head that her foul brother, Viserys, was in hiding somewhere in the area, and that to appease his Horse God, or whatever it was he worshipped, he had to track her brother down and kill him for spilling blood in Vaes Dothrak. Which of course considering the death of Jorah and the theft of one of her precious petrified dragon eggs, she wasn't necessarily against.

Still, following on from that decision, Drogo had since been raiding every settlement he came across in his search for her brother, but to no avail. In fact the entire thing was getting depressing and tiring for Daenerys, as day after day they travelled, the monotony only broken when they raided the occasional small village or settlement, killing most and enslaving the others, with Daenerys doing what she could to curtail the worst habits of the Dothraki, with very limited success.

Despite that though, another sigh left her lips as she knew she would have to once again do the same at the next village they attacked, though maybe this time she would appeal to Drogo directly. The fact that she was carrying his child had to account for something didn't it?

She could only hope he would listen to her appeals for restraint, after all at the moment her life in the Khalasar was strained, as she had no real companions or friends, not now Jorah had passed on, and the isolation was beginning to take its toll on her. In fact she even starting to miss her abusive and murderous older brother, which probably said something about her current mental health.

Letting out another sigh at that, Daenerys then obediently walked over to the impatiently waiting Drogo, Doreah and her other handmaiden following behind her, she could only hope things got better from here, because at present things were not looking good.

 **( - )**

 **(In King's Landing)**

Walking through the Red Keep's dungeon, deep below the earth, Tytan, now clad in a red leather jerkin, brown breeches and black boots, with his nameless Valyrian steel sword and long knife sheathed on his belt, slowly made his way to the noble cell in which he knew Ned Stark was staying, one of the nicer ones that were slightly separated from the others.

Pausing at the iron clad door, the King paused only long enough to knock once before he opened it, a slight smile on his face as he looked around the brightly lit and furnished cell.

Noticing as he did so, that there was fiery brazier in one corner of the room, and a writing desk and small wooden bed in the other. The place wasn't luxurious by any stretch of the imagination, but it was warm, it had a barred window with a view, and simple, but functional furniture. It probably wasn't what the Northern Lord was used to either in the Tower of the Hand or in Winterfell, but it was a lot better than the conditions the majority of the commonfolk lived in, including those not in prison.

"Prince Tytan, or I suppose it is King Tytan now isn't it?" Ned Stark asked from where he was sat at the desk, putting aside the book he was reading as he instead turned to frown up at Tytan, his stern grey eyes meeting Tytan's placid, sea green ones.

"Yes, it's officially King now, the coronation was the other day after all." Tytan replied dryly, as he stepped into the room, Jamie and Ubba following after him, the two of them holding the hilts of their weapons and standing by the wall behind Tytan as they did so. "Not that you missed much, it wasn't a big event, just the Faith and the Lords of the Court, about two hundred in total. Though there was a decent enough feast."

"Really, I would have thought your mother would have wanted something a lot grander?" Ned ask calmly, hiding his surprise about how soon Tytan had had himself coroneted, after all for there to only be two hundred Lord present meant that many weren't' in attendance.

"She did, but I said no. After all I didn't see the point in waiting around, nor in wasting that much gold. Instead I had the ceremony gave a little speech and, well you know the rest. Still I have had to organise another feast for those who were not able to attend, both so I can receive their well wishes and their oaths." Tytan replied, waving away the rest as unimportant, after all the rest of the day had involved meeting and greeting the different nobles, and then retiring to his chambers, all in all it was just an average day really. "The good thing is though that the lockdown has now been ended and traffic in and out of the city is moving again. Though of course my men do have orders to keep an eye out for certain people."

"So then why has the new King of the Seven Kingdoms deigned to visit me?" Ned then asked, deciding to get the reason behind Tytan's impromptu visit, after all eh doubted it was to update Ned on the day to day goings on of his life.

"A few reason really, for one to tell you that your son, Robb, from what my soldiers on the King's Road have said, will be arriving in the capital for your trial early tomorrow morning, after which he will then be expected to give me his oath of fealty, and then return back to Winterfell, hopefully with his sisters." Tytan replied with a shrug, before he grabbed the other chair in the room and sat down opposite Ned, his gaze not faltering for a moment as he meet the Stark Lord's scowl evenly. "And speaking of your trial that is another thing I wanted to discuss with you."

Ned stiffened as he heard Tytan's words, an uncomfortable feeling building within him at the thought of his son and Heir being in King's Landing, old memories of the last time a Lord of Winterfell and his Heir visited King's Landing filling his mind as he sat before the Baratheon King. After all it had been a visit that had ended up with both of them being burned alive in the middle of the throne room, which had been one of the sparks that had caused a civil war.

"And what is it you want to discuss about my trial?" Ned finally asked, his grey eyes locking onto Tytan's placid green eyes, as he refused to take the bait about his son, instead wanting to get down to the real meat of the conversation.

"Well, for one it is happening on the morrow, which is why I want to sort things out now, pre-emptively finalise the outcome now, so to speak." Tytan began, leaning back in his chair as he did so. "Though I am hopeful we will be able to wrap up this conversation quickly, after all I do have another noble prisoner to visit today."

"Another noble prisoner?" Ned asked, an icy feeling building in his gut as he heard that, an icy feeling running down his spine as he looked into Tytan's green eyes.

"Oh relax, it is no one you know." Tytan then laughed, waving away Ned's concerns when he saw the constipated look on the Stark's face. "No, the other prisoner is merely young Viserys Targaryen. Our newest prisoner who a crew of… 'Merchants' dropped off at the keep just the other day."

"Viserys Targaryen, as in the last remaining son of the Mad King?" Ned then ask, a frown on his face at the sheer unexpectedness of this news. "You have him?"

"That I do, apparently the boy pissed off his Dothraki allies and had to flee their camp. Unfortunately though he made the grave error in trusting pirates when he paid them to get him to Slaver's Bay." Tytan replied with a shrug, still processing his own good fortune as he did so, after all the boy had practically fallen into his lap.

"I though you said they were merchants?" Ned then asked, his eyes narrowed.

"Hmm, oh well, let's not spilt hairs here." Tytan dismissed with a wave of his hand. "The important thing is they delivered Viserys Targaryen to me, and the petrified dragon egg he had had in his possession. Not that they knew what it was, no, they just thought it was some shiny rock when they handed it over to me for a comparative pittance."

"I'm guessing you didn't tell them what it actually was before you bought it off them?" Ned asked dryly, his expression relaxing at that, even as he repressed a frown at the thought of the King of the Seven Kingdoms dealing with pirates, in his mind it was hardly the actions of an honourable King.

"Of course I didn't. Still they got a good reward for bringing me Viserys, so I doubt they'll be too unhappy." Tytan replied easily. "But this is of course not what I came to you talk about today."

Ned shook his head at that. "No, you came to discuss my trial."

"That I did." Tytan said with a nod, before he leant forward in his seat. "For you see, there are three ways in which your trial can go tomorrow. You can allow myself and the three Great Lord's to judge you, and with the overwhelming evidence against you they, or rather we, will find you guilty and have you beheaded. Or you can ask for a trial by combat, which I will be duty bound to take you up on as the aggrieved party, unless I want to lose face so early on in my reign, and that would of course end with you dying as well."

Ned nodded at that, knowing as he did that even if his prime he wouldn't have been able to beat the Blessed King, even if he didn't use his magic. The man had not gained the title as the greatest swordsman in Westeros for no reason after all.

"Now I personally, don't want either of those options." Tytan then continued his tone still pleasant as he absentmindedly drummed his fingers on the desk, "After all you are, despite my distaste for you, a good man, a man of duty, and a man of ability. Your death would be waste of an asset, and I like to see myself as a pragmatic man, one who doesn't like wasting things."

"Ok," Ned acknowledged, not surprised that the King so openly admitted that he wasn't fond of Ned. After all even Ned had known that much, though the exact reason behind the King's dislike had always confused him, not that he was about to open the matter up for discussion now.

"Good, so for that reason I am giving you an offer here and now." Tytan then began, turning to Jamie as he did so, who in turn pulled out a rolled up scroll of parchment and offered it to him, a slight frown on the blonde man's face as Tytan took the scroll from his grasp.

Ned frowned as he saw this, but didn't reply, instead wondering what the King was up to.

"The offer is, that you admit you committed treason and that your claims were baseless lies, more than that you also admit that Lord Varys, Lord Baelish and Arch Maester Pycelle manipulated you into your treasonous claims, which will absolve you of at least some of the guilt, plus it is also partially true if you think about it. After which you will then take the Black and go to the Wall for the rest of your life, where upon I will give orders that Jeor Mormont is to train you up as the future Lord Commander." Tytan began, ignoring Ned's frown as he outlined what he wanted from this deal.

After all Ned's testimony would be useful in justifying the purge of Tytan's enemies as he could use the uncovered conspiracy as he liked, and also keeping Ned alive would stop North/ South relations from breaking down any further, and maybe even help Tytan endear himself to Robb so he could potentially strength the relationship.

On top of which Tytan would also have a strong and able man heading the Night's Watch, which considering the news Leaf had mentioned, of a new King Beyond the Wall, and the re-emergence of the White Walkers, would be certainly be useful. The repeating dream still recurring every now and then, warning him of what could be, and what had been.

"And what would I get from this?" Ned asked, his eyes narrowed as he took the scroll of parchment and began to read what he would be agreeing too.

"Well you get to live for one." Tytan replied with a shrug. "You'll also ensure a war doesn't start between the North and the rest of the Kingdom, thus sparing your family from being wiped out. On top of which Robb, after swearing his oath to me, will be allowed to take his sisters back home with him. After all, although I am sure they are enjoying living in the Tower of the Hand, I am equally as sure that they would like to go home too."

Ned froze at that, understanding as he did what Tytan actually meant. Which was that both Arya and Sansa may both be kept in King's Landing as hostages if Ned didn't agree to the terms, or Robb didn't swear his oath, all in order to ensure Robb and the North didn't try anything.

"So do we have a deal?" Tytan asked with a smile, an expectant look on his face as he gestured for Ned to take up his quill and sign the contract, after which he would then be expected to use his signet ring to seal it. "Hell, I will even pass along orders allowing you to visit Winterfell on 'recruiting missions' every now and then if you want."

Ned narrowed his eye as he heard that, before he shot Tytan a cold look. "And what do you get out of all of this?"

Tytan paused at that, the smile fading off his face and soon getting replaced by a look that was completely alien to Ned. His sea green eyes darkening, and suddenly looking far older than Ned thought possible, as he let out a slight sigh, before a more earnest smile passed across his face.

"I'll be getting peace." Tytan replied simply, being genuine now as he just gazed at Ned. "Now will you take my offer?"

Ned glanced down at the parchment as he heard that, before looking up at Tytan and nodding stiffly.

 **( - )**

 **(Sometime later)**

A few minutes later, after his brief but successful conversation with Ned Stark, Tytan began to head to some of the lower dungeons, past the noble's cells and down to the cells that were meant for commoners and the like.

It was as he was doing this that Jamie decided to speak up. "Why did you make that offer to Ned Stark? Surely it would have been easier to just kill him and be done with it?"

"Killing him would have been a waste." Tytan replied easily, his hand absentmindedly resting on the hilt of his sword as he walked through the dark and enclosed halls deep beneath the palace, contemplating as he did so whether he should visit Varys.

Before he quickly decided against it, after all Tytan had Ivar with the man at the moment, and a new Maester, one that was currently in his mother's favour called Cressen, or something like that. With the two of them both being under orders to extract as much information about the spymaster's spy network and the goings on both home and abroad from the eunuch as they can.

Either way the man would not be in a fit state to have visitors. Nor did Tytan really have any words to say to the backstabber, the man literally meant that little to him.

"But he spread sedition." Jamie replied, "It would be more convenient if he were to disappear."

"Sedition?" Tytan replied dryly, pausing as he gave Jamie a flat stare. "Do you really want to get into this with me?"

Jamie flinched at that, his gaze shifting away immediately, after all, although he was not entirely disgusted by Jamie's relationship with Cersei, Tytan had in no way condoned it, nor had he ever mentioned it again to Jamie since the strained conversation in the rose garden. In fact Tytan skirted over the topic entirely, more often than not pretending it didn't exist, which was something Cersei and Jamie were both glad about.

"Besides, Ned Stark is a capable commander, is loyal to his oaths, and has many friends. Sending him to the Wall will be a boon to the Kingdom, and will open the way for his son, Robb, to take up his Lordship, and Robb is the kind of man I can work with." Tytan then continued, his mind going back to the young Stark who even now was probably riding for King's Landing, with an escort of five hundred men, including dozens of other Northern Lords.

"You barely know the boy." Jamie replied, not bothering to contest Ned Stark's pedigree as a commander, after all the man had proven his skill both in Robert's rebellion and during the sack of the Pyke, the seat of Balon Greyjoy, during the Greyjoy Rebellion.

"I'm a good judge of character, or at least I like to think so." Tytan replied dismissively before he came to a stop before another door, this one much deeper in the dungeons, and leading to a cell far less pleasant that the one Ned Stark was currently residing in.

"Wait here." Tytan then said, before he opened the door, both Ubba and Jamie nodding in response, before they went to stand on either side of the door as he entered the cell, both of them trusting that Tytan knew what he was doing.

 **( - )**

A few moments later found Tytan in the small, dank, dingy and dirty cell, a look of distaste prominent on his features as he looked down at an emaciated, lank haired young man who was currently chained to the wall. His clothes little more than filthy rags now, as he looked up at Tytan through his long, dirty, silver coloured hair, his violet eyes glinting madly as he glared hatefully at the finely dressed King in front of him.

"Viserys," Tytan said pleasantly, before he waved his hand banishing the damp feeling of the cell as he absentmindedly manipulated the moisture in the air, small puddles now forming on the floor around him. "How has your stay been so far?"

"You filthy mongrel usurper!" Viserys spat at him, his voice hoarse and croaky. "How dare you hold me down here, in the cells of my own castle, like some kind of filthy peasant!"

"I'll take that to mean you aren't enjoying it." Tytan replied dryly.

In response Viserys spat at him, only for Tytan to flick his fingers and send the blob of spittle flying back at him.

"So I find myself in a bit of a predicament with you Viserys. You see, you've been in Essos for years now, plotting to overthrow my family with help from Varys and his many power hungry friends." Tytan began easily, his tone still mild. "I mean hell, you even sold your sister to some Dothraki Horse Lord in order to gain an army."

"And yet here I am!" Viserys sneered in response. "In chains, betrayed by my filthy, whore of a sister, and those treacherous scum who purport to help me!"

"Indeed." Tytan replied.

"So what is it you plan on doing with me, oh benevolent King?" Viserys continued to sneer, his tone mocking despite the situation he was in. "Do you plan to have me whipped through the streets, showing off that you captured the last dragon? Or will it be a simple beheading, as you wipe out my family line."

"Oh nothing so dramatic, if anything it will be a knife in the darkness, quick and silent. After all, despite being few and far between, there are still some Houses who might prefer a Targaryen King to a Baratheon one." Tytan replied casually. "There's no point in advertising your presence."

"Hn, so Illyrio wasn't completely full of shit, there are still those in Westeros loyal to the true King!" Viserys replied, sending Tytan a yellow toothed grin as he did so.

Tytan smiled at that, holding back his retort about just how much of a true King Viserys was, as he instead decided to get down to the reason behind his visit.

"You're entitled to your delusions." Tytan instead replied, before he decided to cut out the banter and instead focus on the topic at hand. "So, there is a reason I came down here today, and it isn't to just mock you."

"Then what is it you want?" Viserys sighed his tone suddenly tired.

"Information, information about your sister, her Dothraki allies, there overall plans, and just where you came across a petrified dragon egg, and whether there is a way to, well de-petrify it?" Tytan asked, his tone steady and unrelenting.

"I'll tell you about my traitor sister and those horse fucking Dothraki." Viserys replied with a nod, "In return for you not killing me!"

"Only if the information you provide me with is good." Tytan responded, being careful not to promise anything. Not that it would matter as this conversation would never leave this room. "What of the dragon egg?"

"Illyrio Mopatis acquired it from some trader from Asshai and then gave it and two others to my bitch sister for a wedding present, where the trader got it from I know not." Viserys replied with a shrug. "As for awakening the egg." And here a mocking expression once again crossed Viserys face. "Do you really think I would be here if that were possible? No, you and this city would be little more than a pile of ash by now if it was!"

"Lovely." Tytan replied dryly with a nod, holding back his disappointment as he did so.

 **( - )**

 **(In the Godswood, later that day)**

It was a few hours later, after Eddard Stark had agreed to take the Black, that found Tytan once again found himself wandering through the city's godswood, his guards at the entrance to the woods now, stopping anyone else from entering.

"So Perseus, you're back." A soft voice asked as Percy/ Tytan once again came to a stop in front of the stump of the weirwood tree, noticing as he did so that he woodland looked a lot more vibrant than before, and that there was a small white shoot with a couple of red leaves on it, some five or so feet from the stump.

Smiling slightly as he heard the voice, looking away from the tree and over to the source of the voice as he did so.

As he did this though, his eyes widened slightly, when instead of the small, but mature looking elf he was expecting to see, he instead found himself looking at a six and a half foot tall woman, with waist length, glossy bronze hair, with bits and pieces of ivy and leafs woven through her locks, and a pair of pointed ears extending from her tresses. Other than her size, though, she otherwise retained her nut brown skin, delicate features and golden eyes, only now she was a lot taller, and her body although still very lithe was a lot more, obviously, womanly than the one she had before.

"Ermm Leaf?" Percy asked in confusion, his eyes widening as they traced up and down this goddess like being in front of him.

Leaf hummed in response to that, her golden eyes twinkling with amusement at his reaction, before she looked down at her new form. "So what do you think? I thought I would have a bit of fun with my shapeshifting, though I can't say I'm all that fond of being this big? It makes me a larger target, and limits which branches I can now walk on."

Percy's lips quirked at that, rather straight forward answer. "It's certainly different."

"Good different or bad different?" Leaf asked easily, before she looked down at Percy, the elf now amusingly standing a few inches taller than him.

"Well I like how you look either way." Percy replied diplomatically, unsure what else to say, or whether the capricious elf would take offence if he decided he like one form over another.

Leaf tilted her head in amusement at that, before she shrugged and stayed in her taller form for the moment, her golden eyes instead shifting down to the green stone Percy had in his hands, her eyes widening slightly as she took it in, before she tilted her head and gave the younger man a curious look.

"Why do you have a dragon egg?" Leaf asked simply.

"Because I have some questions about it." Percy replied easily, before he passed the egg over to her. With Leaf taking it in her hands and idly expecting it, her golden eyes running over its ridged edges. "I bought it off some pirates thinking it was an actual egg, not that they knew that. Unfortunately though it's petrified, so although it is still worth a lot more than I paid for it, ideally I had wanted to hatch it. As you seem like you've been around for a… while, and know a lot about the world, I thought I would ask to see if you know anything about dragons?"

"The egg, it is not petrified." Leaf replied simply, holding the ridged object in her hands and turning it this way and that, her sharp golden eyes gleaming slightly as she looked up from it and instead over to Percy. "It is merely dormant."

"Dormant?" Percy asked in interest, his gaze now on the egg.

"Yes, dragon eggs can remain in this state for centuries, waiting until the climate is optimal for its survival." Leaf replied simply, her gaze running over the egg. "Then when the conditions are right, it is awakened by fire, usually by its mother's fire, or another magical anomaly if necessary."

"So I just need to put it in a fire?" Percy asked with a frown, suspecting as he did, that that sounded too easy.

"Not a normal fire." Leaf replied, her lips quirking upwards in amusement as she saw the eagerness of the much younger man. He may be old by the standards of man, but by elven standards he was barely out of adolescence. "Dragons are creatures of magic, as is their fire, and so to awaken this egg you must bathe it in magical fire."

Percy nodded at that, curious about where he would get magical fire. After all, if it was water then he'd be sorted, but fire, for the son off a Sea God that was a bit more difficult.

"What about alchemical fire?" Percy suddenly asked, his gaze locked on Leaf, his thoughts on the eldritch green flames of Wildfire.

"Alchemical?" Leaf asked curiously.

"A man made fire, one which was created by manipulating different ingredients, to create a potent fire, one which is said to rival dragon fire in its intensity." Percy continued, taking the egg back from Leaf when she handed it over.

"No," Leaf replied shaking her head, "The only way to make normal fire, magical in nature, is if you make it sacrificial."

"You mean if I burn someone alive in?" Percy asked dryly, his mind now mulling over the Targaryen words, 'Blood and fire', wondering as he did so whether that was a clue as to how they hatched the dragons.

"Yes." Leaf replied blandly, her gaze now no longer on the egg, and instead on Percy, her hand ideally reaching up and tracing down his chest, her golden eyes locking with his sea green ones as the palm of her hand came to rest of his slowly beating heart.

Percy grimaced as he heard her answer, before he nodded. "It won't be pleasant but I can do it, I just need to find someone who deserves it."

"Most of your kind would balk if I told them they would need to burn someone alive, yet you do not?" Leaf said, not a hint of judgement in her voice, only curiousity as she gazed at Percy.

Percy cracked a smile as he heard that. "I have lived for over five hundred years, most of which was in a place many people consider to be worse than hell. I learned long ago that you sometimes have to be ruthless if you want to both survive and thrive. I also learned that even the noblest of souls can be corrupted and made indifferent by the relentless march of time. I long ago gained the resolve to do what was necessary, even if it wasn't easy."

Leaf's lips quirked upwards at that, her golden eyes gleaming in amusement. "So you are starting to learn then, the curse of all those who live too long."

"I am guess you elves have a similar problem?" Percy asked, now interested himself in the strange, beautiful creature in front of him, his hand moving up to rest to her hand, even as it remained on his chest. The delicate hand feeling unusually warm and soft under his own.

"Well I wouldn't call it a problem for us, after all we are not like humans, we naturally live extremely long lives and so instinctively have a different way of seeing the world than humans." Leaf replied simply, a slight smile on her own face as she saw Percy wanted to ask something, even as he was holding himself back. "You want to know just how old I am don't you."

"Am I that transparent?" Percy replied easily, his sea green eyes twinkling slightly as he let go of her hand and absentmindedly moved a lock of her bronze hair behind one of her pointed ears.

Leaf's lips twitched upwards at that, truly glad that she had made the journey south to meet this strange man, this long-lived Demi human, he truly was an interesting individual. "By the standards of man and how they measure time, I am over eight thousand years old."

Percy let out a breath of surprise at that, his eyes widening in shock as he looked at the still youthful and beautiful looking creature in front of him. After all he had thought himself old, but this girl, this girl was ancient in comparison, and if anything he was the child in their friendship/ relationship, it was certainly a novel experience for him.

"In fact I lived before you humans raised your great wall of ice in the north, and was there before the White Walkers came into existence. In fact I was alive when men were little more than animals scraping a living of rocks." Leaf continued, her golden eyes diming slightly as she said that, as the true weight of her age entered her gaze as she looked past Percy and out into the distance, momentarily lost in the memories of her past.

"Well shit." Percy replied, unsure what else he could say to that.

Either way it seemed to do the trick as Leaf suddenly smiled, "Though it would see that mankind have not changed much since then."

"Well that's just rude." Percy grinned, before he looked down at the dormant egg in his hands.

Following his gaze Leaf let out a slightly sigh, before she reached over her hand and placed it upon the egg in his hands, leaving behind a glowing golden hand print as she did so, one which slowly faded as she took her hand away a slight smile on her lips as she did so.

Percy cocked an eyebrow at that action, before he looked down at the petrified egg in his hands and back at Leaf.

"There are other ways to awaken a dragon egg." Leaf replied easily, before she looked down at the egg, which even as she looked at it began to shake, tiny cracks beginning to form in its green shell. "After all dragons aren't the only magical beings in the world."

"So all that talk about magical fire?" Percy asked, as he too looked at the hatching egg.

"I was just curious to see what you would say." Leaf shrug, before she smiled, widely this time, revealing her slightly sharp white teeth as she saw a tiny head protrude from the egg, one which was covered in tiny, sea green scales.

Percy smiled at that too, not at all pissed off, as he instead just gazed down at the baby dragon in his arms.

 **( - )**

 **(With Stannis Baratheon)**

"Are your visions true?" Stannis asked bluntly as he looked out over the sea, his body swaying slightly with the motion of the large ship beneath him as it crashed through the unsettled waters of the Narrow Sea, the wind rustling the sails overhead as he continued to look out in the direction of Essos, the shoreline not quite visible yet.

"A servant of the Great Other has infected the heart of Westeros. The Prince, he who is purported to be Blessed by 'Gods', is little more than a vessel of the Dark One! Even now his corruptive influence is spreading." A red haired woman replied passionately, the beautiful woman standing beside Stannis as he looked out to sea, her gaze shifting from the small fleet of ships behind their flagship, each of which displayed a crest of a stag within a burning heart on their sails, and instead over in the direction of Essos.

"Then why are we leaving, if my nephew Tytan is as corrupt as you say, should we not be amassing an army to dethrone him?" Stannis asked fiercely, his gaze now locking with the red haired woman's dark violet eyes. The woman in question being a High Priestess of R'Hllor, Melisandre, and a close confidant to Stannis and his wife.

"His power is too great and influence too strong at present, already your brother, Renly, and many of the other Lords of the Land have given him their oath, and that power is only growing as he tightens his grip on the Kingdom. No, if we want to defeat the Dark One and his servant, then we must go to Essos and forge an army of our own, one that's dedicated to the Lord of Light." Melisandre replied, her voice still filled with passion. "You are the Azor Ahai, Stannis Baratheon, and so it is your destiny!"

"But allying with a Targaryen?" Stannis suddenly said, a look of distaste on his face.

"She is the 'Prince that was Promised', the one destined to help you, I have seen it in the fire." Melisandre shot back at him, her tone unwavering as she spoke of her visions, visions that had been becoming more and more powerful for years now.

Stannis nodded as he heard that, trusting in her visions, after all he had done so, so far and they hadn't led him wrong yet.

Melisandre smiled in satisfaction as she saw his faith, before suddenly her eyes widened as she felt a change in the air, her violet eyes flicking upwards to the darkening sky above, only for them to then lock on a red comet, one that was tracing across the sky even as she watched.

"And if you want proof, then look up into the sky!" Melisandre muttered, her violet eyes reflecting the light from the burning red comet as she did so. Even as Stannis too turned and looked up at this 'sign' of Melisandre's, his stern face quickly breaking into a smile of satisfaction as he did so.

 **( - )**

 **(With Lysa Arryn)**

In the Eyrie, a loud shriek of rage and grief could be heard echoing through the great citadels cavernous halls, the terrible sound issuing forth from the lips of one Lysa Arryn, as she looked down at the missive in her hands. Her pale, claw like hands trembling and her thin bony face contorting as she read the words of the message again, her bloodshot eyes widening further.

Petyr Baelish was dead, her beloved Petyr, he had been taken from her, murdered, supposedly by the Eunuch, Varys. She let out another shriek of anger at that, flipping her writing table and throwing her goblet at a nearby wall as she did so, splashing blood red wine across the wall.

He was dead, her one true love, the light of her life, and the father of her son, Petyr Baelish was dead.

More than that though, she knew in her heart that some filthy Eunuch couldn't be responsible for his death. No this was the responsibility of that Baratheon King, the one who had imprisoned her beloved Petyr in King's Landing, stopping him from being with her, or his family.

It was the fault of that man, Tytan Baratheon.

Another scream of rage erupted from her thin lips at the thought of that vile man's name, even as she picked up her chair and threw it at the door. Her mind already filled with thoughts of revenge, as she decided that that man will pay for this crime.

Already she had been secretly calling her banners, hiring mercenaries and gathering her forces. Originally this was to free Petyr from the Tytan's clutches, but now, now she would use it to bring him down.

The King should have known not to scorn a woman, and certainly not Lysa Arryn, after all, as far as she was concerned, in doing so he had sealed his fate!

 **( - )**

 **(Back in King's Landing)**

Riding into the city, just before the city gates were closed for the night, a small column of silver armoured horsemen, and several richly decorated carriages trundled along the cobblestone streets, their passing catching the attention of both the patrolling Gold Cloaks and watch commonfolk, as they idly watched these obviously wealthy newcomers late entrance into the capital.

All eyes moving to the crest of a golden rose that was flying from the columns flags and emblazoned on the carriages.

To those in the know, it quickly became apparent what this meant. The Tyrells had arrived at King's Landing, no doubt including the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and wife of the King Tytan Baratheon the First of his Name, Margery Tyrell.

 **( - )**

 **AN: So there was an awful lot happening in this chapter, or at least I think there was, as it hinted at a lot of stuff to come. That being said I am a bit annoyed with myself as I was hoping to include a scene with Tytan/ Percy, Cersei and Joffrey, just because I have a fun thing to do, but unfortunately that will have to wait until a later chapter.**

 **Still things are progressing, both positively, with Tytan getting a dragon, securing the North and the Reach, and negatively, with Stanns heading to Essos and Lysa Arryn falling completely off the rails. The actions, which had previously only been mentioned now becoming more important as she loses it, on top of which things are still on going in the North.**

 **As for Stannis's actions, remember this is the guy who burnt his daughter and dozens of other people alive. On top of Which he murdered his own brother and turned his back on everything he believed in. All because of Melisandre. As for Lyda she is batshit insane, so her story line will definitely be interesting.**

 **So yeah there is an awful lot happening, and will likely soon be some action, which I know some are looking for as there have been quite a few chapters recently of dialogue, and political manoeuvring. Which to be fair is most of what Game of Thrones/ A Song of Ice and Fire is about.**

 **Also in regards to the Leaf scene, I know I started referring to Tytan as Percy there, but that was due to the conversation involving names that was had previously, and the fact that when it is just the two of them, they think of Percy as being Percy. It will all become clear, just know it wasn't me making a mistake.**

 **Anyway, other than that thank you for reading and I hope you leave a review.**

 **See you next time.**

 **Greed720.**


	17. Chapter 17

**AN: So I have to say I really appreciate the support the last chapter, and the whole story as a whole has received, it's brilliant thanks!**

 **But anyway here is the next chapter I hope you all like it, I only wrote it today and so have only read it through once, but I am pretty happy with it. So yeah hope you enjoy it and leave a review.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones, as much as I wish I did.**

 **( - )**

 **(Last Time)**

 _Riding into the city, just before the city gates were closed for the night, a small column of silver armoured horsemen, and several richly decorated carriages trundled along the cobblestone streets, their passing catching the attention of both the patrolling Gold Cloaks and watch commonfolk, as they idly watched these obviously wealthy newcomers late entrance into the capital._

 _All eyes moving to the crest of a golden rose that was flying from the columns flags and emblazoned on the carriages._

 _To those in the know, it quickly became apparent what this meant. The Tyrells had arrived at King's Landing, no doubt including the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and wife of the King Tytan Baratheon the First of his Name, Margery Tyrell._

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 17**

 **( - )**

 **(With Tytan, in King's Landing)**

Leaning back on the Iron Throne, there was a look of fascination on Tytan's youthful face as he closely watched his new dragon, Ozymandias, scamper across his lap, chasing after Tytan's fingers as he teased the little dragon. One that Tytan had somewhat named on a whim, an old poem he vaguely remembered from his younger years in school providing the inspiration.

Watching on, Tytan's sea green eyes twinkled merrily at the slight cries the green dragon let out as it playfully snapped at Tytan's finger, the small creature barely bigger than a cat, scampering across Tytan's lap with ease, his emerald green eyes carefully tracking his foe, i.e. Tytan's hand.

Chuckling slightly, Tytan then reached behind, the small, scaly winged creature, before he gently scratched it on the back of the neck, making the dragon let out another cooing sound as it twisted its neck, acting for all the world like an oversized cat as it both enjoyed the neck scratch, and also tried to nip at Tytan's hand.

"And where exactly did you get this… thing again?" The King's mother, Cersei, asked curiously as she looked down at the tiny dragon, a look of both caution and curiosity on her face, as she partially reached out, as if she hoped to touch the mystical creature, only to back down at the last moment just in case it turned feral.

Her emerald green eyes carefully track the winged creature in fascination, as she saw it acting so playfully, nothing like she had imagined a dragon would act, even if it was once a hatchling at the moment.

"I told you before, I got the egg from a rather unscrupulous merchant, quite cheaply too. Though fortunately that was because they didn't actually know what it was." Tytan replied easily, as he took the sleeve of his leather jerkin out of the dragon mouth when it began trying to chew on it. His grin widening as he did so, not at all bothered to be showing the dragon off, after all why on earth would he want to keep it a secret, not that he likely could keep something this big a secret, which would be literal description in a few years, not in King's Landing anyway, a city with a million eyes.

"And you plan on keeping it?" Cersei asked again, as the blonde haired woman looked down at her son from where she was stood besides the Iron Throne on a raised dais. With Cersei keeping her voice low, as she knew that the score of other people in the room were also trying to listen in, including Tytan's personal guards, his Uncle Jamie, his new Grand Maester Qyburn and several other courtiers and servants.

"Obviously." Tytan replied easily as he watched the little dragon curl up on his lap, once again mentally comparing it to a cat, his lips curving upwards at the sheer bizarreness of that comparison, his mind drifting back to the other dragons and drakons he had met during his long life as he did so, none of which he could imagine acting like this. Though that might also have been because most of them were centuries old, if not millennia, and tended to be almost indescribably strong as well "The Targaryen's conquered Westeros when they had dragons, just imagine what I'll do with little Ozymandias?"

"Yes and look at the Targaryen dynasty now." Cersei replied dryly, though she didn't deny the fact that Tytan could do great things if he had a dragon, a literal weapon of war on his side. Seven Hells he was already dangerous enough with his magic and lineage, but add in a dragon, and well the skies were literally the limit. "And are you really sure about the name Ozymandias, it doesn't really sound like a name a dragon would have?"

Tytan smiled in response to that. "And that's because the Targaryens named all the dragons you've heard of, and you just have to read what they named their children to realise how bat shit crazy they were." Tytan's smile faltered slightly as he said that, thinking about his own name as he did so, or at least the one his mother had given him and he had begrudgingly accepted, which quickly made him realise he didn't have much room to talk.

As if sensing what was going through her son's mind, Cersei narrowed her eyes, as if daring Tytan to say anything in regards to his name, one which she had mainly chosen to honour her father, Tywin, and partially her less well respected grandfather, Tytos.

"So what's on the agenda for today?" Tytan asked instead, changing the topic of the conversation as he finished playing with his dragon and looked over to his new Grand Maester, Qyburn, his sea green eyes narrowing as he idly inspected the unusual thin, pale, scraggly looking Maester, one who Tytan had never heard of before Cersei had introduced him.

Despite that though Tytan's mother had vouched for his ability and more importantly his loyalty, and so far the man had done a good job in usurping Varys's spy network and stripping the eunuch of all of his secrets. On top of which he had shown himself capable of assisting Tytan in governing the land in the absence of a Hand of the King, and most of the Small Council.

"Lord Stark is to stand trial for his crimes today, and the traitor Varys, after admitting his guilt is set to be officially sentenced to be executed for treason." Qyburn replied with a humble bow to Tytan, with the Grand Maester having personally handed over the blood speckled, parchment upon which Varys had admitted his guilt and put his signature to, to Tytan.

Tytan nodded at that, absentmindedly stroking the now napping dragon on his lap as he looked away from Qyburn, thinking over the implications of Varys death, before finding none. Not now they had gained as much Intel from him as they could and tracked down all of his assets that is, including a number of his contacts for his formidable spy network, which in turn had allowed them to usurp it, after all the thing about spying is that it was all cloak and dagger, and often only those at the top knew who was working for whom. "And what else?"

"Robb Stark and a contingent of Northern Nobles have arrived to give their oath of fealty to you. As has your betrothed, Margery Tyrell, and her father and grandmother, though currently they are boarding in one of their manses in the city." Qyburn continued on, his gaze flickering down to the dragon in Tytan's arms for a moment, before he once again met the King's sea green eyes.

"Good, send word that young Robb Stark is allowed to see his father before his trial, and also send for my younger brother Joffrey, I have business with him, before I deal with Lord Stark and Eddard." Tytan replied softly, ignoring the sudden look of concern Cersei sent him at the mention of his brother.

Qyburn bowed in response to Tytan's orders, before he turned and left so he could pass them on to some of the servants, leaving both Cersei and Tytan alone on the dais for the moment, with Jamie, Ivar, Ubba, Arthur, Matthias and Luke all standing guard in front of the dais, wearing their usual mail and armour. With Tytan having sent the rest of his Kingsguard, save for Jamie, to protect his three younger siblings.

"What business do you have with Joffrey?" Cersei asked quickly, looking down at her eldest as she did so, with a hint of faint concern in her eyes. After all Tytan and Joffrey had never really gotten along, even when they were much younger. With that in part being likely due to Tytan's more inhuman qualities, like his natural affinity and skill in combat, his unnatural water based powers, and his formidable intellect and knowledge, all of which likely alienated Joffrey and firmly stuck him within his elder siblings shadow.

"You'll see." Tytan replied simply, before he looked back to Qyburn when he returned. "By the way, do you have any news for me regarding the construction of Royal fleet, the renovation of the cities defences and Tyrian's canal project?"

"Fifty three ships have now been built and fully rigged your Majesty, and another forty seven are under construction, progress on the construction of the fleet has been swift. As for the cities defences, there is a whole host of carpenters and stonemasons currently working on the defences, and so far it is progressing slowly but steadily, but it'll probably take years before it is fully finished." Qyburn replied, keeping his verbal update simple as he knew that the King would no doubt want to see written records for confirmation.

With the current state of the Small Council having made it so that the King had to take a far more proactive stance in regards to the running of the Kingdom, after all Renly was the only remaining member of the Small Council in the city. Not that Tytan complained about this, in fact Qyburn was quite sure he would have insisted on it either way, with Tytan being far more hands-on and pragmatic than his predecessors, a man of action through and through, but one who had the wisdom to show restraint and patience when necessary.

"The canal system?" Tytan then prompted, after giving Qyburn a nod to tell him to continue.

"Plans have been finished, and your Uncle is currently trying to find additionally funding outside of the Crown's treasury to begin work, starting off in the Crownlands, Reach and Westerlands. That being said, he is also trying to recruit skilled work men, though so far he is struggling to do so. No doubt due to your own projects on the cities walls and a new fleet." Qyburn once again said, summarising the diminutive Lord's difficulties quite succinctly as he did so.

"I see, put out a minor tax on Lord's who are to benefit from the creation of canal, and also make it known that the Crown will match the money raised with gold from the treasury. On top of that try to strong arm the Faith of the Seven into offering forgiveness for certain sins, in return for free labour, see whether we can rustle anything up." Tytan replied, a slight frown on his face as he thought about the possible benefits from Tyrian's canal system, and the push back he might receive from introducing a new tax.

"I will see to it. Though it might require an offer of royal favour to convince the High Septon to fulfil your request." Qyburn replied, a slight smile on his face as he took note of the King's commands.

"As long as it's within reason I don't mind, though if he pushes too far, well then I will have no choice but to push back." Tytan replied bluntly, knowing as he did that the corruption of the Faith was a useful tool, but could also be disadvantageous when turned against him. Which was why he had no qualms about crushing it if need be, and using his crusade against corruption to increase his popularity amongst the masses. "For now though I would prefer an amicable relationship with the High Septon."

"You should be careful with the Faith, religion inspires fanatics, and fanaticism can be incredibly dangerous." Cersei spoke up carefully, advising Tytan about the dangers of indulging fanaticism or of getting involved in something like peoples beliefs, something that people tended to get very passionate about.

The initially reaction to Tytan's' abilities were evidence enough of that, until of course Cersei had created an almost cult of personality around her son, to cement him as Blessed, as opposed to an abomination, or a heretic.

"Noted, but I will not allow myself to be cowed." Tytan shot back, before he once again looked to Qyburn. "Anything else?"

"The Kingdom's spies in the Vale have report that Lysa Arryn is acting more and more erratic, apparently she has gone as far as to call her banners, and has spent a fortune on hiring mercenaries." Qyburn spoke up, going over the reports he had been sent from some of the Nobles of the Vale, some of the ones who had refused Lysa calls, and had instead sent word to the capital of their concerns.

"What was that you were saying about fanatics?" Tytan asked dryly as he looked to his mother, before turning back to Qyburn. "Keep an eye on things for the moment, and start recruiting and training more Goldcloaks, we won't act yet, not until we know what she's up to, but we'll monitor the situation. Also send word out to the Lords of the Stormlands, the Crownlands and the Riverlands, tell them of the potential trouble, and caution hem to be ready, but to not act prematurely."

"I'll see to it your Majesty, though recruiting more Goldcloaks will be expensive." Qyburn said, once again taking a note of the King's orders, and already planning out the exact phrasing he would use when passing the King's orders on to the Lords of those Kingdoms.

Tytan hummed at that, before he looked to Qyburn. "Send the completed ships of the Royal fleet out to sea, have them start hunting down pirates and what not. Call it training or experience, but send them out and have them bring in some short term revenue to beef up the treasury a bit."

"As you say my King, though may I suggest we also hire them out to merchants as protection as well, which will not only improve trade across the Narrow Sea, but achieve the same results as hunting down pirates?" Qyburn added on.

"Do it." Tytan nodded, accepting the advice and recognising the wisdom in it. "What else?"

"We have still had no reply from Lord Stannis on Dragonstone, should we send a ship so it can be delivered to him in person, and an answered can thus be demanded?" Qyburn asked after once again making a note of the King's commands.

"Yes, send a minor noble too, in order to add emphasis, someone my Uncle can't ignore or shake off, maybe Ser Beric Dondarrion, or Ser Balon Swann." Tytan added on, before he paused when he saw the doors to the throne room open, and his younger brother Joffrey enter, the armoured Ser Barristan Selmy marching behind him.

With Tytan having requested that the Captain of his Kingsguard keep an eye on his brother, both to keep him out of trouble, and hopefully curb the worst of Joffrey's traits. On top of which Tytan had also requested that Ser Barristan try and impart at least some wisdom to the boy, and try and teach him some decency, or as much as he reasonably could.

"See to it Qyburn." Tytan then said with a nod and wave of his hands, as he now eyed his younger brother, watching carefully as the pale, thin boy approached, his green eyes locked on the dragon on Tytan's lap, before trailing to the golden antlered crown that was currently perched comfortably on Tytan's head, a flash of envy momentarily passing through Joffrey's eyes at the sight of it.

"You called for me?" Joffrey demanded, his high pitched, shrill voice echoing in the relatively empty throne room as he did so.

"My King." Ivar spoke up dryly from where he was stood just in front of the dais. "You're supposed to call him My King, or your Majesty."

Tytan cocked an amused eyebrow at that, finding it ironic that the generally disrespectful Ivar would say this, as well as the fact that he said anything at all.

"And you're supposed to refer to me as my Prince!" Joffrey snapped back, before he looked to where his brother was sat on the Iron Throne, their mother at his side, a look of concern on her face as she looked between the brothers, ignoring everything else as she instead waited to see what would transpire next.

"Not now Ivar." Tytan spoke up bluntly, waving for his overconfident guard to shut up for the moment. "But yes Joffrey, I called you here to discuss your future."

"My future?" Joffrey replied in confusion, his eyes once again going back to his just as confused mother.

"Yes, for one I am ending your betrothal to Sansa Stark." Tytan began brusquely, raising his hand as he did so and forestalling Joffrey's reply as the pale blonde boy seem to inflate, his cheeks reddening and a look of indignation on his face. "Furthermore I am sending you away from King's Landing."

"Tytan!" Cersei said, a look of shock on her face as she looked from her eldest to her now nervous looking second eldest.

"Oh calm down it's nothing untoward." Tytan replied bluntly, sending his mother a look which told her to 'calm down'. "No, I received a letter from our grandfather, Lord Tywin. One which 'requested' I release Jamie from his oath as a member of the Kingsguard, and instead let him return to Casterly Rock as his Heir."

Jamie shifted forwards at that, his eyes locking with Tytan's for a moment, before he looked away and over to his sister. The look on his face telling Tytan just what Jamie thought of that request.

"I of course said no, a Kingsguard's oath is for life." Tytan continued on, ignoring the ongoing exchange and surprise. "That being said Casterly Rock needs an Heir, and since Renly has made Tommen his Heir, as the Lord of the Stormlands, that means you Joffrey are going to be Tywin's Heir, the future Lord of Casterly Rock."

A look of shock passed across Joffrey's face as he heard that, as too did Cersei and Jamie look surprised. Of course moments later Joffrey's look turned slightly slyer, as he obviously began thinking about what this could mean for him. Not that the younger boy probably had any idea what he was instore for, after all Tywin did not suffer fools, nor would he accept incompetence.

In fact Tytan knew that Joffrey was likely in store for unimaginable torment as Tywin broke him, and shattered him to pieces, only to rebuild him in a way he found more acceptable. Not that Tytan cared about Joffrey's short term happiness, as he was mainly doing this to get Joffrey out from under his feet, and away from the Capital, plus if Tywin made a half decent human out of the idiot it would be a success.

Judging from the look on Cersei's face though, his mother at least knew that Joffrey was not going to be having an easy time of it.

"You have a week to prepare yourself. I have already sent word to Tywin. As for ending your betrothal to the Stark girl, well soon enough you will be a Lannister and not a Baratheon, and so it is for Tywin to decide who you will marry." Tytan once again said bluntly, not adding in that he was also doing it for the frail Stark girl's sake. After all the girl seemed weak, and Joffrey was a monster, a match between the two of them would destroy the young Sansa Stark. "Now go and begin your preparations."

Joffrey nodded to that, an uncertain look on his face for a moment before he gave Tytan short and stiff bow, before he turned and left the throne room.

Following on from that, and a few minutes later, Tytan sighed in irritation as more nobles began to enter the throne room, knowing as he did that Ned Stark's 'trial'; would soon be starting and that his day was far from over.

 **( - )**

 **(A few hours later)**

It was a few hours later that found Tytan now sat in his chambers, on a much more comfortable chair, eating a brief lunch, with Robb Stark. With Tytan's guards Ivar, Ubba, and Matthias all standing around the edges of the room.

In all honesty though, despite the tenseness of the situation he was somewhat glad that he had moment of relative peace and quiet, after all the day had been busy so far, as he had had the quick and impromptu trial of Ned Stark, which had barely been a trial, as Ned had simply stated his guilt, and passed on some of the blame to Pycelle, Varys and Baelish, after which he had then announced he was taking the Black, which Tytan had magnanimously accepted.

Following on from which, Tytan had then had Robb Stark and the other Northern Lord's all give him their oaths of fealty as one, to show both the solidarity of the North despite the loss of Ned Stark as the Warden, as well as their continued loyalty to the Crown. All of which had been planned hours beforehand in order to give the onlookers the show they wanted, and also to make sure that when word got out about what had happened, that it spread the right message to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.

There was of course a bit more theatrics and pageantry to it than that, making it far longer than it had needed to be, as the throne room had been filled with spectating nobles, and Ned's son, the new Warden of the North, Robb.

Speaking of which, Tytan drained his wine goblet and eyed the otherwise quiet Lord of Winterfell as he picked at his food, a somewhat awkward silence having sprung up between them over the course of the meal.

"So we've both come a long way since we first met in Winterfell." Tytan finally spoke up, breaking the tense silence as he felt Robb's cold blue eyes shifting up from his plate to instead look at the King.

"Well it was well over eight or nine months ago." Robb replied bluntly, before he let out a sigh. "But yes a lot has happened. My brother woke up and our family was whole again, only for my father to commit treason and take the Black, which means that I now have to take up the Lordship of the North far sooner than I thought I would."

Tytan nodded at that, as he went to refill his goblet. "Yes, it's similar for me, my father dies and I'm made King, and then I have to deal with a conspiracy within my first week of ruling the Seven Kingdoms."

Robb shifted uncomfortably as he heard that.

"I don't blame your father for it Robb, nor do I blame you." Tytan then continued, his sea green eyes locking with Robb's. "Your father was unaware of the snakes that reside in King's Landing, and so was unprepared for their manipulations. The true transgressors were Baelish, Varys and Pycelle, members of the Small Council who made a play for power, and failed. Your father was merely one of their pawns, or rather one of their victims."

"And yet he is still being punished." Robb finally said, the slightest hint of coldness entering his voice as he did so.

"He spoke treason in front of the Court, and there was no excusing that, no matter the circumstances." Tytan replied simply, "For the stability of the realm and my rule I had to be decisive, and there are only two punishments for treason."

Robb sighed as he heard that, before he nodded. "I can understand that much, I just regret it ever came to this."

"As do I, after all we might not know each other well, but I do consider you a friend." Tytan replied, taking another sip of his wine as he did so.

Robb paused as he heard that, eyeing Tytan closely as he did so, before he remembered the way the King had helped him when Bran had been injured, a small gesture, but a meaningful one. "It is the same for me."

"I'm glad." Tytan replied with a smile, before his smile widened. "On a happier note though, I noticed you brought your Direwolf with you, Greywind wasn't it? Well either way it's bit bigger than the average pet don't you think?"

"Coming from the one who has a real life dragon." Robb replied, his lips curving up in a slight smile at the mention of his companion. "Now the story of how that happened is one I would love to hear."

"It's not much of a story if I'm honest, more a stroke of luck that I acquired an egg and was able to hatch it." Tytan replied thinking back on the dragon, Ozymandias, which even now he was keeping in the godswood under the watchful eye of Leaf, not that the score of men he had guarding the entrance to the woods knew that, before he smiled again. "Though I suppose I could exaggerate it a bit."

"Well the best stories always do have a bit of exaggeration in them." Robb replied, thinking back on the old war stories his father, and a few of the older men used to tell him when he was younger.

Tytan grinned as he heard that, before with a brief chuckle he began his story, making it appropriately flamboyant where he could, and almost nothing like the truth.

 **( - )**

 **(Sometime Later)**

A few hours later found Tytan once again in his chambers, watching as the sun started to set. With im having thrown the balcony doors of his room thrown open, after which he had then simply sat back quietly in his seat and contently watched as a few birds flew through the now pink skies, the last light from the sun glimmering rather beautifully off of the distant sea.

It was whilst he was looking off into the distance, lost in the memories of his past, both the good and the bad, that he was distracted by a soft knocking on his door.

Turning his head slightly, Tytan absentmindedly called for them to enter, not as on guard as he usually was, as he trusted his men not to let a potential enemy so much as approach the door, let alone knock on it politely.

A few moments later found a vaguely familiar girl entering the room, one who had long, thick and glossy brown hair, slightly tanned skin, a sinfully curvaceous figure and delicate, beautiful facial features, her large brown, doe like eyes, drawing Tytan in, even as he looked over at the young girl as she approached, her gossamer like dress flowing behind her as she moved.

"Margery." Tytan said pleasantly as he turned and stood up, a smile spreading across his face as he greeted the younger girl, with the two of them, although not being friends, having met before, either at tournaments or the occasional feast. With Margery, like many other girls her age having been sent to interact with Tytan by their parents, also so they could try and attract his attention, which could potentially lead to their family being elevated socially, politically and financially through a highly desirable Royal union.

"My King." Margery replied, dipping into a perfect courtesy as she shyly looked away from him for a few moments, before meeting his gaze again, a coy smile now playing around her generous lips.

Tytan smiled at that, not believing the girl's shy facade for a moment. Not through any fault of Margery's though, the girl was good, almost frighteningly so, no doubt due to her grandmother Olenna Tyrell having taught her all she knew. No, instead it was because Tytan was good at reading people, he always had been, easily able to look through people's fake facades, a skill he had learned through bitter experience in his youth.

"How was your journey? It must have been well over a year since we last met?" Tytan continued as he walked over to Margery, taking her hand when she offered it and brushing his lips against her knuckles, his gaze momentarily trailing over her shoulder when he saw two handmaidens had also entered the room, as well as two Tyrell guardsmen, and Ivar and Ubba.

The handmaidens no doubt being present to ensure nothing untoward happened, after all despite having calmed down a lot in recent years, Tytan still held something of a reputation when it came to drinking and women, one which would have made his father proud. Which of course Tytan knew made his distain of the man rather hypocritical, then again Tytan wasn't married at the time and didn't have a family, unlike Robert, the King. That being said looking back at it his actions, he knew he wasn't perfect, and was as flawed as any god or human.

"The journey was long, but I am truly glad to be back in King's Landing, the city is looking more beautiful than ever!" Margery replied kindly, a smile on her face as Tytan released her hand. "In fact the last time I was here, was during your seventeenth name day tournament, back when you won the day and named me your Queen of Beauty."

"A title you deserve as much now as you did then." Tytan replied, vaguely remembering the event she spoke of as he did so, a slight smile spreading across his face as he remembered how drunk and raucous he and his companions had been later that night.

Margery's smile widened at that, before she looped her hand through Tytan's arm, the two of them slowly making their way over to the balcony so they could watch the setting sun together, all under the watchful eyes of Margery's giggling handmaidens.

"I have to say I was somewhat disappointed that you did not greet me sooner." Margery said lightly as the two of came to a stop on the balcony, looking out over the city of King's Landing as they did so.

"Yes, unfortunately though I have been very busy today, what with the trial of Ned Stark and my meeting with his son, Robb." Tytan replied carefully, looking over at Margery as he did, and admiring how beautiful she was. Though it was a different kind of beautiful to Leaf. As where Leaf had an inhuman elegance and grace, Margery's beauty was a little more down to earth, and not as intimidating.

"Yes I watched, it was the best end to a bad situation, or at least the best one could reasonably hope for." Margery replied carefully.

"I did not see you in the crowd?" Tytan said simply, a curious look on his face now as he processed her words.

"As you say you had other things on your mind. But now though, well, now I hope your schedule is freer, after all my father tells me that we are betrothed and soon to marry." Margery responded with a smile, looking closely at Tytan now, as if hoping to analyse him and get more out of him than he was obviously willing to say. "I thought it best that we at least get to know each other a little better, before that happens."

"Yes, going forwards I hope to spend a lot more time with you Margery, because as you say we are to marry, and I would have our union be a good one, one based on love and respect." Tytan said with a smile, his sea green eyes flickering back to the softly smiling Margery again, telling her what was expected of him, and knowing as he did so, that he had been the one who suggested this union, all so he could secure the Tyrell's loyalty and support, which in turn allowed him to strengthen his position as King.

 **( - )**

 **(Elsewhere in the Red Keep)**

It was as Tytan was meeting Margery in his chambers that his loyal men were going about other, less pleasant tasks. With Ivar, still clad in his chain mail and armour marching through the corridors leading to the Black Cells, a bored look on his face as he unsheathed a long knife from his hip and slowly opened the door to one of the cells.

"What is it you want?" Viserys rasped out from where he was still chained to the wall, his madly gleaming eyes glaring up at his latest visitor through the curtain of lank silvery blonde hair that covered his face.

"Or has your craven master finally decide to have me killed?" Viserys then continued, trying not to show his fear as he eyed Ivar's knife fearfully.

"Hmm?" Ivar hummed, before he looked down at his knife and grinned. "Oh no this isn't for you, you don't have to worry about getting your throat slit or anything like that." With that said Ivar then raised his other hand, revealing a large, bright red apple. "No this is for my supper, I've been busy guarding Tytan all day and didn't get around to eating much."

Grinning again when he saw the look on confusion on Viserys's face, Ivar then began to peel the skin off the apple, his demeanour still pleasant as he strolled into the prison cell and closed the door behind him with his booted foot.

"What do you want?" Viserys asked again, the fatigue in his voice clear to hear now.

In response Ivar let the skin from his apple fall to the ground, before he then took a bite of it, absentmindedly wiping his blade on his leather breeches as he did so, before he then sheathed it.

"Well…" Ivar began through a mouthful of mulched up apple, sending the disgusted Viserys a grin as he did so. "I'm here to free you of course. I mean you aren't doing much good down here in the cells are you?"

Viserys shifted around as he heard that, his chains rattling loudly, and the red raw flesh of his wrists becoming more irritated as he struggled slightly. "What are you going to do with me?"

Finishing the apple, core and all, Ivar sent Viserys another wide grin. "You'll see, but trust me, it's going to be good!"

 **( - )**

 **AN: So what do you all think? I hope you enjoyed it and leave a review!**

 **That being said I've noticed that there has been a lot of politics and conversation in the last few chapters, which although is important, does get a bit tiring at times. Which is why I am looking forward to writing some more actions scenes.**

 **Plus there have recently been some questions raised about the enemies in this story. Which is always what I find to be one of the most interesting things about stories set in times like these, as they involve multiple factions, some based on religion like the Sparrows and the Religion of R'Hllor, whilst some are based on familial connections, or upon different ideologies such as royalists and nobles who want to decentralise power. On top of that you have cultural factions and mystical factions. So yeah, questions about enemies in a story like the one I envisage is quite difficult, as there are masses of factions which are in constant flux, with purposes crossing over and members changing sides, or losing prominence. So yeah, nonsensical rambling aside, I am afraid a question about who the main enemy or antagonists are is generally quite a difficult story to answer. Save for the obvious answer the undead legions slowly wandering south.**

 **But anyway, sorry for that I am not sure if it makes sense.**

 **Other than that I hope you liked the chapter, there is some important things mentioned within it, so yeah thanks for reading an I'll see you later.**

 **Greed720.**


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: So here is the next chapter of The Last King, I hope you all enjoy it, I wouldn't say it turned out exactly like I had planned, but I am happy with it otherwise.**

 **So yeah other than that I hope you all continue to review, favourite and follow, I am hoping to break two thousand favourites soon.**

 **Thanks for all the support, I hope you enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: I do now own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones.**

 **( - )**

 **(Last Time)**

 _"What do you want?" Viserys asked again, the fatigue in his voice clear to hear now._

 _In response Ivar let the skin from his apple fall to the ground, before he then took a bite of it, absentmindedly wiping his blade on his leather breeches as he did so, before he then sheathed it._

 _"Well…" Ivar began through a mouth of apple, sending the disgusted Viserys a grin as he did so. "I'm here to free you of course. I mean you aren't doing much good down here in the cells are you?"_

 _Viserys shifted around as he heard that, his chains rattling loudly, and the red raw flesh of his wrists becoming more irritated as he struggled slightly. "What are you going to do with me?"_

 _Finishing the apple, core and all, Ivar sent Viserys another wide grin. "You'll see, but trust me, it's going to be good!"_

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 18**

 **( - )**

 **(In King's Landing)**

"Oi Trevor!" A grizzled looking man, with piggy brown eyes, lank grey hair and a weathered face which made his age indiscernible, shouted out, as he brought the wooden tankard in his hand to his bearded mouth and took a gulp of the ale within, a dribble of the slightly too warm drinking rolling down his chin as he did so. "You heard about what's happening up at the castle?"

Trevor, an equally rough looking man, with a badly thinning head of dirty brown hair, and a bulging stomach that flowed over the rim of his patched breeches and thick leather belt, poking out of the bottom of his filthy tunic as it did so, looked up as he heard that. His own pale, watery blue eyes narrowing as he slammed his own tankard onto the table in front of him. "No, and I don't really care what the Nobs are up to, either, Jon! Those pricks don't care about us, so why should we give a fuck what they do?"

The now named Jon rolled his eyes at that, knowing well enough just what Trevor thought of the Nobility, a thought that was shared by many of the other Commonfolk, folk who had laboured away under the command of the pampered little shits, scraping a living whilst the Nobles lived in the lap of luxury. "Yeah, but this isn't about those shits, it's about the King."

"Oh because the fact he has a crown makes a real big difference." Trevor sneered in response, before he knocked back some of his own drink as he did so, ignoring the slightly sour taste as he just tried to loose himself in the hazy feeling the alcohol gave him. "Oh go on then Jon, do tell, what's the divine arsehole done this time? Oh no let me guess, has he knocked up another whore, or been playing around with the wrong man's wife again?"

"Doubt anyone would care if he did that kind of shit anymore, considering he's the King an all." Jon replied dismissively, not caring for the usual gossip that surrounded the former Prince, most of which which praised him as a masterful swordsman, a man blessed by the Seven Divine, and who looked out for the people. Though some of the gossip also vilified him, making him out to be a self-centred waster, who whored and drank nearly as much, as his much reviled late father, squandering his gods given abilities on women and show fighting. "No I'm talking about the fact he apparently has a dragon!"

"A dragon!" Trevor laughed out loud in response, slamming his tankard on the table in front of him as he did so. "How much have you been drinking Jon!? There ain't no more dragons around anymore, they died off centuries ago, back when those Targaryen's were ruling the Kingdoms, everyone knows that you stupid clod!"

"Yeah but the King has one. I know a guy, who knows another guy who went to petition the King about summit, and he saw the King's dragon clear as day!" Jon replied, shaking his head as he remembered the story his mate's mate had told him, about how the King had had a small, green scaled, baby dragon with him.

"What a load of horseshit!" Trevor replied shaking his head and laughing again. "You'd believe anything you would! I bet you even believe that crazy Arryn bitch is about to rebel against the King to don't you, or that there is a Targaryen Prince trying to start another rebellion out in the Crownlands!?"

"That is true, the thing about Lysa Arryn that is, I know a guy, and he was telling me how all these mercenaries are flocking to the Vale, cause the Lady there is thrown her coin around, hiring as many as she can. I also heard the King is sending troops to the borders, and that the Goldcloaks have started recruiting like mad!" Jon replied quickly, scowling as his mate once again didn't believe him, noticing as he did that some of the other Commonfolk were listening on their loud conversation now, with the ratty tavern they were drinking in by the docks being quite cramped at the moment, especially with all the work going about, what with the repairs of the city walls and the building of the Royal Fleet.

Suffice to say there was a lot of coin available for those with the skills, plus there was also talk of there being more coin up north for workmen willing to dig some canal system.

"You know a guy! You know a guy! You always fucking know a guy! You're talking out of your fucking arse and you know it Jon! There ain't no way any one is stupid enough to take on the King, and that's not cause he has some magic fire breathing lizard, it's cause he is a ruthless fucker that you just don't fuck with. I mean he'd probably raze an entire city if they oppose him, innocent an all." Trevor said loudly, his thick lip curving upwards into a grin as he shook his head at the sheer ridiculousness his mate was spouting, as if anyone would dare rebel against the King. He might be a fucker, but he was a tough one, as hard as they come, and twice as ruthless.

"The King wouldn't do that, he's blessed by the Gods!" One of the other patrons of the tavern cut in, a scowl on his face as he shook his head. "He's a good and noble man! A man who fights for the people, I mean look at how he brought the Mountain to justice!"

"Oh I'm sorry have you ever met the guy!" Trevor shouted loudly, clumsily getting to his feet now, his watery eyes fixed on the speaker and watching as he shook his head. "No! I didn't think so! The King is just like every other Noble, a prick, but a lucky prick who managed to fall out of the right pair of legs. As for being blessed, that's bollocks too, I mean you must have heard about the Red bitch who were on Dragonstone, and how she claimed to be blessed by her god too, and all she did were burn people alive. The King doesn't have any magic or anything, it's just lies that is spread around to make him look powerful, nothing more!"

"No, that ain't true, I've seen him using them, I watched him create blades out of water!" Another one of the listeners spoke up.

"And I'm guessing you were pissed at the time." Trevor shot back dismissively, his expression aggressive at being challenged so publicly like this.

"I don't know, I don't see why they would lie. After all it would be pretty obvious if they were." Jon said uncertainly.

"They're Nobs, they're born to lie." Trevor replied, waving his mate away. "Just you watch, nothing will come of this Arryn thing, nor will it come of this dragon thing, or Targaryen shit. It's all just rumours coming from drunks and fools like you fuckers!"

"Oi, shush up you fools!" Another man suddenly said as he looked out of the window, before turning back to the room. "Some Goldcloaks are coming!"

Jon paled as he heard that, whilst Trevor just cursed, the rest of the denizens of the tavern having a similar reaction to the other two as things quietened down a lot, even as the door to the tavern were thrown open and a pair of men entered. Both of whom were wearing good quality, leather boots, polished scale mail hauberks, and golden coloured breastplates, pauldrons, gauntlets and capped helmets. With the pair of soldiers also carrying spears in their right hand, and a diamond shaped shield in their left, with each of them then having a sheathed sword and knife on their belts.

Entering the now quiet tavern, the two Goldcloaks, the King's watchdogs, looked around, the cramped, yet quiet room. Both of the men, who looked to be in their mid to late twenties eying the inhabitants suspiciously as they entered, their grips on their weapons tightening as the smelt the sweaty, nervous atmosphere of the tavern.

"Don't let us disturb you." One of the Goldcloaks then said as he leant his shield against the bar, and then took off his golden coloured helmet, revealing his shaved head, and rough, scarred face to the tavern as he did so. "Carry on as you were…"

An awkward silence answered that remark, as some of the denizens eyed Trevor nervously before backing away into the corners or turning away and starting stilted conversations with their neighbours, trying to avoid making eye contact with the two heavily armed Goldcloaks in the room.

Looking completely unbothered by this, the Goldcloak who spoke approached Jon and Trevor's table, with him having noticed the looks the other barflies were sending them.

Upon reaching the table though, the first thing the man did was grab Jon's half full mug of ale, which he then proceeded to drain in a single gulp, before he then spat the a mouthful of ale on the dirty straw floor. "What the fuck is this swill!?"

"Erm ale…" The tavern owner said nervously, before quietening down when he saw he had the two Goldcloak's attention, after which he then quickly scrambled forwards with two new mugs, these ones filled with much nicer ale, ale he usually only served to those who looked to have coin. "On the house."

"Good man!" The Goldcloak replied as he took one of the mugs, his fellow guardsman doing the same, before they raised their mugs in the air and called out a toast. "To the King!"

"To the King!" The inhabitants of the Tavern chorused loudly, too loudly, before everyone who had a drink, took a hasty gulp of it.

Grinning as he saw this, the Goldcloak grabbed a chair and sat down at the silent Trevor and Jon's table. "So lads, has much been happening? The pair of you look nervous."

"Not at all, we're just relaxing after a hard day at the docks." Jon replied nervously, shooting Trevor a look as he did so.

"Ermm aye, nothing more."

The Goldcloak hummed at that, before he took a sip of his ale. "Really, well that's not what I heard. Apparently someone in here was talking badly about the Crown, or at least that is what a friendly drunk told us a few minutes ago."

"No, no not at all, nothing like that!" Jon replied quickly, shaking his head as he did so, after all everyone knew of the Goldcloaks loyalty to King Tytan, as well as the way the King had reformed the City Watch. Making it so none of them would ever take a bribe, or look the other way, not if they valued their positions, or their lives that is.

On top of that the City Watch had been given more power to investigate disturbances, and deal with crimes, with them coming down like an iron fist on any violence, theft or assault in the city, and as for dissension, well it wasn't unheard of, that people who spoke badly about the Crown suddenly disappeared in the night, never to be seen again.

"Good, good." The Goldcloak nodded, his scarred face twisting into a seemingly friendly expression. "Maybe another toast to King Tytan's good health then?"

"Yeah, yeah absolutely. To King Tytan's health, the best King there ever was, and ever will be!" Jon said quickly, raising his mug as he did so.

"The very best!" Trevor added on, licking his lips nervously as he eyed the Goldcloaks up and down before joining in, sweat dripping down from his forehead as he saw the Goldcloaks nod their heads, before they joined the rest, as they drank to the King's health.

 **( - )**

 **(With Daenerys in Essos)**

There was a disconsolate expression on Daenerys Targaryen's face as she found herself once more staring at a funeral pyre, preparing to watch on as yet another person in her life was slowly burned to ashes in front of her.

Only instead of it being a dear friend and adviser, like Jorah had been, this time it was her husband, Khal Drogo. A mighty warrior, who had once led a Khalasar that had been nearly forty thousand strong, with him now being little more than a slab of meat, slowly burning to ash as fire ate away at him. With his only company in his journey to what lay beyond, being two petrified dragon eggs, a small wrapped up bundle, and a screaming, wailing woman, one who Daenerys had had tied to the pyre, so she would be burnt alive with Drogo.

Perhaps the worst thing about this, was that her husband, for all his might and strength as a warrior, had not been slain in battle like a Khal should have, as what was expected in their brutish culture.

But instead he had been killed through witchcraft, blood magic, and his own wife's naive stupidity. With this being made even worse by the fact that her unborn son had also been killed by this witch. Her unborn baby's life having been taken as a sacrifice, so the witch could 'heal' Drogo, only for her to heal his wounds, but destroy his mind.

With the witch responsible for all these woes, being the same one that even now shrieked and struggled as she was slowly consumed by the flames. The woman in question being someone that Daenerys had saved from the cruel brutality of the Dothraki Horde that her husband commanded, when his Khalasar had descended on her village.

Daenerys having gone out of her way to save this woman, and many others, with her even going so far as to beseech her brutish husband for leniency and mercy on behalf of these innocent people, something which had surprisingly worked..

Unfortunately though this attempt at being magnanimous had only ended in misery for Daenerys, as she found her entire life falling apart before her, all because she tried to be kind and help people. With the witch she had saved, actually justifying her actions, when she killed his son and destroying his mind all of which she did while trying to claim she was healing him of a fever, with her saying that she had done this as retribution for the Khalasar attacking the village and brutalising its populace.

Looking into the flames now, Daenerys could feel nothing but hopelessness. Her innocent, unborn child was dead, her brother had abandoned and stolen from her, Jorah her only friend and adviser was also dead, and now her husband, a man she had never particularly liked or loved, but who had been a solid feature in her life, a rock that had allowed her to continue on, was gone.

Which meant she was now cast adrift in the great wide world, alone and unloved, with barely two score people who still followed her, or were loyal to her, with the rest having all abandoned her when Drogo died. The great Khal's death having fractured the Khalasar almost immediately, as other Dothraki warriors rose up to try and take Drogo's place as leader, or other Khal's closed in and poached the now leaderless warriors.

Daenerys's mind went blank at that, her listless violet eyes staring blankly into the flames as they consumed Drogo, her unborn baby and the witch who had ruined everything.

The flames, they were almost hypnotic in a way as she looked at them, her mind drawing a blank as she began to step forward, heedless of the cries of shock and warning from her followers as she did so.

Her attention instead wholly on the fire as it continued to beckon her in, promising her a sweet release from the torment and futility that was her life and reality. After all anything would be better than the misery and despair she was feeling at the moment.

Embracing this sudden urge, Daenerys stepped into the fire, even as it gladly welcomed her, enveloping her flames and clinging to her loose, leather clothing. The crackling red and gold flames fully embracing Daenerys Targaryen, like a parent greeting its child.

In response to this, Daenerys simply closed her eyes as she felt the warmth surrounding her, her mind starting to blacken as she felt her consciousness fade, the witch, Mirri Maz Duur's, screams and shrieks acting like a sweet lullaby for the young Khaleesi, as she felt the darkness fully take over her mind now.

Even as she collapsed to the ground unconscious, aware of nothing else as the fire continued to burn merrily around her, and the witch continued to scream, for as long as her lungs held up that is, before she too eventually went silent, though for different reasons as the fire finally claimed her life.

 **( - )**

 **(With Melisandre, on the Narrow Sea)**

Opening her eyes Melisandre awoke suddenly with a start, her chest heaving and her eyes wide as she sat up in her bed, her silky sheets sliding off of her fit, nubile form, even as she looked into the darkness of the surrounding cabin, feeling the sweat drip down her body before it began to cool in the cold air as she did so.

Twisting to the side as she heard low, shallow breathing, Melisandre tuned and saw Stannis sleeping beside her, the grey haired, lean looking man having not awoken, despite her actions.

Reaching down to him, Melisandre gently brushed one of her hands along Stannis Baratheon's chest, even as her other hand came up to her throat, feeling the golden necklace around her throat, with the dark red ruby, one that was set into the necklace, constantly pulsing with magic as she felt it.

Feeling this, Melisandre closed her eyes, and just continued to feel the steady pulse, using it to steady her own breathing and focus her mind, as she began to think back on what she had just seen in her dreams, both what was happening in that moment, and what would be happening in the future.

With this being somewhat of a new phenomenon for her, as her powers, and precognition had been rapidly increasing in strength for many weeks now, ever since she had first seen that red comet in the sky, back on the day they had first left Dragonstone.

Opening her violet eyes again, a smile began to spread across her lips, as she thought on what she had seen. Daenerys Targaryen was alive, and she would soon be embracing her full destiny. Even now many miles away, Melisandre could almost feel the heat from the flames that the silver haired girl had just walked into. Just as she could almost feel her Lord's will at work.

Pushing herself out of her bed, the red haired woman swiftly began to dress, pulling on her red, velvet dress, and her dyed, woollen clock. Her violet eyes glimmering in the darkness, as she then reached out to a nearby lantern, and with just a touch set it alight, her power almost writhing beneath her skin, begging to be released, as she swept out of the cabin, leaving her lover to his rest for now.

Existing the cabin, and stepping out onto the deck of Stannis's flagship, Melisandre looked around as the dawn began to break on the distant horizon, her eyes trailing over the fleet of ships as they continued their journey, across the Narrow Sea and then around the coast, heading in the direction of Slaver's Bay.

"What are you doing out here Milady?" A rough voice suddenly called out, attracting Melisandre's attention as she turned away from the view of the lightening horizon, and the land mass of Essos in the distance, as she instead looked at the speaker, a grizzled, grey haired man, with trimmed beard and heavy features. The man in question wearing a slightly battered and salt stained leather jerkin and breeches, and a worn, black cloak as he looked at her.

"Davos." Melisandre acknowledged calmly, as she eyed Davos Seaworthy up and down, as ever unimpressed by this man, this non-believer, a man who she knew had advised Stannis against trusting her, and against making this voyage to begin with.

Davos nodded at that. "It's early Milady, and the winds are starting to pick up. You shouldn't be out here on deck."

"Your concern is appreciate." Melisandre nodded before she walked past him. "However you need not worry, I do not fear the winds, nor the early morning."

Davos scowled at that, sensing the slightly mocking lilt in her voice as he did so.

"How is our course, how far are we from our destination?" Melisandre then asked, her gaze shifting onto Davos again.

"We're a good week from Slaver's Bay," Davos replied gruffly, his tone telling her exactly what he thought of travelling to such an accursed place. "Though it might be easier if we actually knew where exactly we were supposed to go."

"Then you're in luck, for I have had another vision." Melisandre replied joyfully, gleeful that she no longer needed to look into the flames to see the vision's her Lord gave her, as now they naturally came to her in her sleep. That being said, she had found that if she still used the flames, they almost seemed to amplifier her powers, adding depth and clarity to her visions that they had been lacking before.

"Oh great." Davos sighed, holding back a retort on just what he thought of this witch and her religion, a religion that had now fully consumed Stannis, and his many retainers, as he bought into the horseshit this woman said. With them going so far as to flee Westeros with a large portion of the Royal Fleet due to her vision, abandoning the King and going to join up with some Targaryen, all because of this woman's vague warnings about the Dark One, and the King's corruption.

"You still do not believe." Melisandre stated, a hint of humour in her eyes as she looked at Davos.

"Is it really that obvious?" Davos replied bluntly, not so amused.

"And why is that, why do you not trust me? Or believe in the Lord of Light, when your Lord does, and many of his banner men do too?" Melisandre asked, with no hostility in her tone as she instead gazed into Davos's eyes curiously, looking at him like he was some kind of petulant child.

"Because you're dangerous, you convinced Stannis to abandon his duty to the realm, and for what, so we can trek across the Narrow Sea and help some Targaryen waif retake the Iron Throne?" Davos snapped, his temper flaring as he saw the calm, and collected look on Melisandre's beautiful face. "You have incited Stannis to rebel against the King, his own Nephew, and for what?"

"For the benefit of the world." Melisandre replied simply, raising her hand as she did so, and creating a ball of fire above her palm, before she looked deeply into the flames. "The great enemy is stirring, and the Dark One's agents are already moving. Your King, Tytan, is but a pawn of the Dark One, a corrupted tool, who will bring about the end of Westeros."

"So you say." Davos growled, keeping a wary eye on the orb of fire above the red haired woman's hand as he did so, before she closed her fist and extinguished it.

"So the Lord of Light says." Melisandre corrected him, before she took a few steps towards him, causing him to take a step back, a look of discomfort flashing across his face. "Stannis and his men have already looked into the fire, and have seen the horrors to come, they have seen the task ahead of them and they know what will come to pass, if they fail in their task. You could do the same if you wish. All you have to do is ask, and look into the flames, and then you too will see the threat we face."

Davos scowled as he heard that, more than aware of what she spoke of, after all he had seen the witch showing Stannis, and many of his followers these visions in the flames. Even his own son had looked into her fire and seen these visions, whatever they were. With these visions, having been enough for his son to cast aside the Seven Divine, and instead convert to the Faith of R'Hllor, like all the others who had looked into the High Priestess's fire.

In fact Davos was one of the only high ranking men in Stannis's army not to have taken the witches offer, with him instead stamping down on his curiousity, and holding onto his distrust of this woman and her ways.

Which was occasionally quite hard as the visions she offered were apparently becoming stronger and clearer as time went on, which only made Davos more and more curious about just what they showed, and how they had consumed a man like Stannis, a man of practicality, honour and duty.

"I think I will be fine." Davos finally growled back at her, after a few moments of thinking the idea over.

"That is your choice, and I will not force the truth upon you, but when you are ready to learn, then all you need to do is ask." Melisandre replied gently, taking no offence at his reluctance.

Before anymore could be said between the two, they were interrupted by the arrival of Stannis Baratheon, as the middle-aged man stepped out onto the deck, with the man already wearing his fine leather jerkin, breeches and boots, as well as a high quality grey cloak to protect him against the cold sea air.

Looking around as he arrived, the Baratheon Lord's gaze quickly locked onto both Melisandre and Davos, his gaze hardening slightly at the sight, as he knew the two of them, despite being his two most trusted advisors, didn't get along that much, despite his attempts to make Davos see sense.

"My Lord." Davos said, standing up straighter at the sight of Stannis.

Stannis however just nodded as he looked between the two. "Is there a problem?"

"I've had another vision My Lord, and now know where our final destination is." Melisandre said quickly, even as she sashayed over to Stannis, delighting in the way his eyes followed her, just as she could feel the eyes of many of the sailors on the boat, Davos included, doing the same.

"You have?" Stannis asked, his eyes lighting up at this. After all he had been curious when he had awoken alone in his cabin, as usually the High Priestess was there waiting for him like a dutiful wife would, only she was not his wife, as much as he wished it otherwise. With his wife and daughter instead being on a different ship, away from him so they wouldn't distract him from his task.

"Yes, and we must go to the City of Qarth." Melisandre said decisively. "For in Qarth we will find allies, those who will help us in our cause."

Stannis nodded at that. "Qarth it is then."

"Qarth." Davos grumbled, knowing as he did that the city was slightly east of Slaver's Bay, meaning they were already heading in the right direction, with the new destination only adding a couple of days onto their voyage. "I will send a message out to the rest of the fleet and inform them of our finally destination."

"Good, do so." Stannis nodded, a slight smile spreading across his usually stoic face as he looked out at the horizon as the sun continued to rise.

By his side Melisandre smiled too. "And hurry, for every day we tarry, the darkness draws in, and the Long Night continues its approach."

 **( - )**

 **(With Daenerys, in Essos)**

It was early the next morning when Khal Drogo's funeral pyre finally burnt out, now bereft of any fuel. It was as the pyre smoked and smouldered, that the now, ash covered and nude form of Daenerys Targaryen walked out of the remnants of the pyre.

The sliver haired girl, miraculously alive after walking into fire, and also nautically holding a pair of baby dragons in her arms as she stepped out of the smouldering remains of the fire and instead approached her remaining followers.

Her violet eyes holding an eerie gleam to them as she looked out over the Dothraki around her, those that had stayed near the pyre for warmth during the night, creating what meagre shelter they could as they waited for morning.

"Khaleesi." Doreah, one of Daenerys's handmaidens muttered as she stood up, the lithe girl's eyes widening as she and the others that remained saw the silver haired girl emerge from the funeral pyre, her body covered in ash but otherwise unharmed. Doreah's brown eyes widening as she saw that not only was Danerys alive, but that she was also carrying two creatures that were thought to be extinct.

In response Daenerys just looked on at Doreah, her gaze cold, and devoid of emotion as her new-born dragons, her children cried out.

Seeing this Doreah fell to her knees before Daenerys, the rest of the tiny Khalasar following her lead, as all those assembled before the Targaryen began to kneel, bowing their heads down as one of the dragon hatchlings, the one with black scales, opened its wings and let loose a loud cry.

 **( - )**

 **(Beyond the Wall)**

In the land far beyond the Wall, the horde of the dead continued to grow larger, their pace growing faster as well, as the magic of the world began to strength once again. The horde growing larger and larger everyday as bodies, some of them centuries and decades old, wrenched themselves up from the snow, their rotting flesh and cracking bones, reanimated and imbued with new life as they shambled along, heading south.

At the head of this horde, a set of cold, icy blue eyes surveyed the stark, barren landscape in front of him. The beings horned head tilting to the side slightly, his breath misting out in front of him, before without a word he dug his heels into the flanks of his undead horse, urging the creature on as they began to travel every further south, the horde now coming in contact with the living people that lived this far north. All of whom would die, their bodies joining the ever-growing horde of the dead.

 **( - )**

 **AN: So what did you all think? I am sure there are some who didn't like that there was no Percy/ Tytan in this chapter. I can understand that as he is the MC/ protagonist of the story, despite that though I do need to develop and show what is going on in other areas so I can push the story forward.**

 **So other than that what do you think. I hope I was able to get what I wanted to do with the first part of the chapter in King's Landing, which was more than just talking about what is happening in the the Kingdoms, but more the feeling of what is happening in the city . I also hope I wasn't too cryptic with what was going on in the second half and my phrasing. Either way I hope you enjoyed the chapter and leave a review.**

 **On another note entirely, I've been somewhat badly behaved and have started planning out another Percy Jackson/ Game of Thrones story, only this one is set beyond the Wall, and will involve Percy having as more direct link with the White Walkers. For this story I have also been taking some themes from an old strategy PC game I used to play, called Warcraft 3: Reign of Chaos, and its expansion the Frozen Throne. Both of which were useful as inspiration for planning out my new story, and constructing the basic plot.**

 **That being said it is only in the planning stage and I will likely concentrate on update a few of my more favoured stories for the moment. But I think, depending on how I feel about it, and the response I get, I may draft a first chapter sooner than later.**

 **So yeah, would love to hear people's thoughts.**

 **Thanks for reading, and please leave a review, they inspire me to write.**

 **Greed720.**


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: So hello all, here is the next chapter of 'The Last King', I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I know the last chapter had mixed reactions, what with some people disliking the lack of Percy/ Tytan in it, whilst others didn't see the point of the tavern scene other than for exposition, which is a little disappointing as there was another reason for it, but ahh well, it can't' be helped.**

 **Either way this chapter will contain a lot of the MC, so I hope you all enjoy it and leave a nice long review. Thanks a lot for all the support so far, I really appreciate it.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones, or A song of ice and fire.**

 **( - )**

 **(Last Time)**

 _In the land far beyond the Wall, the horde of the dead continued to grow larger, their pace growing faster as well, as the magic of the world began to strengthen once again. The horde growing larger and larger everyday as bodies, some of them centuries and decades old, wrenched themselves up from the snow, their rotting flesh and cracking bones, reanimated and imbued with new life as they shambled along, heading south._

 _At the head of this horde, a set of cold, icy blue eyes surveyed the stark, barren landscape in front of him. The beings horned head tilting to the side slightly, his breath misting out in front of him, before without a word he dug his heels into the flanks of his undead horse, urging the creature on as they began to travel every further south, the horde now coming in contact with the living people that lived this far north. All of whom would die, their bodies joining the ever-growing horde of the dead._

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 19**

 **( - )**

 **(On the border of Dorne)**

Riding across the dry, arid landscape of Dorne, a group of fifty armoured men made their journey south, leaving the northern border of the southern Kingdom behind as they instead rode ever deeper into Dorne.

Most of the mounted men, were wearing chainmail hauberks, breastplates, gauntlets and pauldrons, heavy armour, something which was not really suitable for the warm and dry climate of Dorne, something which was somewhat obvious as many of the men were huffing and puffing, sweat running down their bare heads, their helmets either strapped to their saddle, or held under one arm as they continued to ride.

Over the top of their armour the armoured men also had plain black tabards, denoting no House crest or allegiance. Similarly those that carried shields, had them painted black, with them covering up whatever Sigil they had once born.

Riding at the head of this group of armoured men, were two other men, both of whom stood out from the rest due to both their appearances and the fact that they rode a few metres ahead of the rest.

One of these men was a tall, blond man, with slightly angled features, which gave him a slightly sly look. With the man in question wearing a set of armour too, only his was of a much finer quality to those around him, forged of castle forged steel as opposed to the iron, or common steel armour of his fellows. On top of this he also had a light blue tabard over the top, showing off the crest of House Arryn, a sky blue falcon soaring against a white moon, on a sky blue field.

Beside this man rode another, only this pale, gaunt looking man wasn't wearing any armour at all, instead he was wearing a dark, red, velvet jerkin, and black leather breeches, with a thin grey cloak tied around his shoulders, the cloak pinned in place by a golden brooch with a large ruby the size of a pigeon egg set within it. At his side the man also had a slightly curved sword, an oddity in northern Westeros, but something which was far more common in Dorne. Though the man's violet eyes, and long, almost white blonde hair were certainly not something often seen in the southern most Kingdom, or in Westeros at all, not anymore anyway.

"Are you finally going to tell me where we are actually going?!" Viserys, the richly dressed man asked, his tone whiny and nasally as he looked over to his riding companion. The man in question, Ivar, sending him an annoyed look as he did so.

"Yes we're going to Dorne." Ivar replied, his usual cheeky, cheer absent as he instead shot Viserys an irritated look, quashing his ever growing temptation to just bash the whiny brats head in, after all the boy was far more useful to him alive.

"But why, you've already paraded me around the Crownlands, shouldn't we be staying there building a powerbase?" Viserys replied, a scowl on his face now as he felt the wind blow some coarse sand against his royal skin.

"Yes, because building a rebellion within spitting distance of the mightiest King Westeros as ever had is a great idea." Ivar said sarcastically.

"He's a usurper, like his father, he's not the King!" Viserys snapped, his violet eyes flashing with anger as he looked over at the older man.

"Tell him that." Ivar replied with a short laugh. "His father took the throne by force, just like your family did a few hundred years ago. For that reason he is just as much a usurper as your family is, and has just as much right to sit on that pointy throne."

"My family forged a dynasty that would have lasted a thousand years were we not betrayed, we brought a golden age of peace and prosperity to Westeros. Tytan Baratheon is nothing!" Viserys spat, turning away from Ivar now and instead glaring at the dry, barren landscape ahead of him. "When I depose that tyrant, the people will cheer for me, and the nobles will flock to my banner. Once I remove the man they fear, then the Targaryens will rule once more!"

"Well you'll have to deal with his magic first, oh yeah, and his pet dragon too." Ivar returned, his lips twitching upwards when he saw Viserys's gaunt cheeks flush red. The younger man obviously remembering all of Ivar's mocking, in particular his mocking about how Tytan had been the one to hatch the green dragon egg, as oppose to Viserys the self-proclaimed 'last dragon'. With Ivar bringing up how the Baratheon King now had his dragon Ozymandias quite regularly, even if it was just to piss off the spoilt shit.

"He will die for taking my birth right from me, both my throne and my dragon. I don't care what power the gods have blessed him with, for they have blessed me too, they had blessed me with the divine right to rule. Something that miserable cur will never have!" Viserys finally retorted, his hands tightening on the reins of his horse, causing his knuckles to whiten as he did so.

"Yeah, good luck with that." Ivar replied, a bemused smile on his face at the thought of this mewling, cunt of a boy facing off with Tytan, a master swordsman, and someone who could shake the earth and manipulate the seas with his will.

"I find your lack of faith disturbing." Viserys finally responded after a few moments of silence, his violet eyes locking with Ivar's once more, his distrust of this cheerful, but deadly and ruthless man once again rising up within him. "If you don't think I can defeat Tytan, then why did you, one of his sworn men, free me?"

"Because it suits my purposes." Ivar replied with a shrug and a slight laugh, flashing a bright smile at Viserys as he did so, his eyes crinkling upwards revealing laughing lines. "He's a good guy, and I like him. But I have risen as far as I could under Tytan, I'm the King's guard. It comes with gold and some good perks, but nothing permanent. I want to be a Lord, but under Tytan that will never happen…"

"But under me it will." Viserys finished for him, a sudden gleam entering his violet eyes as he eyed Ivar now, as if seeing him in a new light. "So that's it is it, you're out for yourself, I like that. I had to work and fight to get to where I am, and I respect the drive it takes. Worry not Ivar, by the time I come to the throne I am sure there will be many traitor lords that will need replacing, and you can rest assure that I will carve you out a nice piece of land to rule."

Fighting off a mocking sneer about just how Viserys had 'worked and fought to get to where he was', Ivar instead nodded his head, his lips curving upwards as he continued to play his games. "Very well then King Viserys, let's get you to Dorne so we can start whipping up more support for your rebellion."

Grinning at that, Viserys nodded his head, his previous irritation forgotten as he digested Ivar's words, 'King Viserys', it did have a ring to it, didn't it. "Lead the way then, Lord Ivar."

 **( - )**

 **(With Percy in the Godswood)**

"He's a cute little scamp isn't he?" Percy laughed as he saw Ozymandias shuffling across the leaf strewn floor of King's Landing Godswood, the quickly growing, yet still young green dragon acting like little more than an overgrown puppy as it crawled over to Percy, letting out joyful cries as he knelt down and allowed him to crash into his lap.

"He misses you Perseus." Leaf said in amusement from in front of Percy, her elven features settling into a soft smile as she knelt down in front of Percy, one of her delicate hands reaching out to scratch Ozymandias on the side of his neck, getting another joyful cry from the baby dragon as he turned his head and nuzzled Leaf's hand.

"Well I miss him to, but he's far too distracting to have in the throne room when I'm passing judgement, and what not. Beside I'm still working overtime to try and fill the slots in my Small Council with competent and decent people. All the while I am still partially overseeing the reconstruction of the city walls, the continued construction of the royal fleet, the implementation of aqueducts and a new sewage system in King's Landing and the wider Crownlands, and am trying to work out the best way to pass on the knowledge of irrigation and crop rotation to the farmers in a way they will understand." Percy replied his face tightening in to a frown for a moment at the thought of all the things he had on his plate, before his expression softened when he felt Ozymandias's large green eyes fix on him, an oddly doleful look on the dragon's reptilian face.

"You're frustrated." Leaf nodded, before she tilted her head. "But once you find new members of this Small Council you speak of, you'll be less stressed."

"I doubt it, but it will take some things off my shoulders, but there is still the growing worry of insurrection from within the Vale, the Targaryen loyalists that are still lurking around plotting, and the issue of my Uncle, Stannis Baratheon, disappearing from Dragonstone and leaving out a Lord as he instead fucks off with most of his retinue and nearly half of the existing royal fleet." Percy replied, before sighing again, relieved that he was actually able to get some of his frustrations off of his chest. After all he didn't really have anyone else he could be this honest with like this, not even Jamie, his mother or his forever loyal sworn swords.

In fact with everything that had been going on recently, he had actually found himself strangely missing the isolation of Tartarus, at least there life had been simple, he would wake, hunt food, fill something, and maybe hook up with an attractive anthropomorphic monster like Kelly, and then go to sleep, life was simple.

Here though he had to rule an entire Kingdom, one that had been badly mismanaged by his predecessor, and was divided up into seven different regions, all of which had their own local power structures, politics and Lords. It was a headache to say the least, but he was making progress, already he had secured most of the Kingdoms, and had pledges of fealty from about ninety five percent of all the nobles, and was building up a loyal army of professional soldiers, who were directly under his control, his Goldcloaks.

That being said, every day seemed to bring with it fresh challenges, Stannis's desertion as one example. Still he was making steady progress, and had begun to scourge corruption and incompetence from his government, starting at the top and quickly going down the hierarchy, something which was made all the easier by Qyburn, who had taken on the role of the new Master of Whispers among his other responsibilities, the man proving himself a real asset in how he had been combining both Baelish's/ Percy's existing spy network, with Varys's, to create a comprehensive new one which spread over both Westeros and Essos.

"You need to relax." Leaf said softly, her warm hand rest against Percy's cheek now, making him look away from Ozymandias, as he instead locked eyes were her golden ones. "Come, I have an idea."

With that said Leaf stood up, the fey like girl once again in her adult form as she offered Percy a hand up, before she led him into the centre of the grove.

"Oh, and what do you have in mind?" Percy replied as he followed her, letting Ozymandias run free as he did so, the little dragon scampering ahead of the two of them as they came to a halt, an amused looking Leaf now facing the bemused Percy.

"We're going to play." Leaf replied with a grin, flashing her white teeth at Percy as she did so.

Percy cocked an eyebrow at that, eyeing up Leaf's beautiful, lithe, leaf covered body and her flawless face. "Ok."

Leaf's lips curved upwards into another smile as she heard that, before suddenly and without warning her hand snapped up, the trees around her groaning and rustling, before moments later a half dozen thick, wooden tree roots erupted out of the earth around Percy, the roots moving like barbed tendrils as they shot straight towards him.

"Woah!" Percy shouted even as he snapped his right hand round, drawing moisture from the air, earth and nearby plan life, creating a scythe like blade of water as he did so, before he twisted and sliced through three of the roots his movements swift and fluid. After which he dodged backwards, fending off the other three roots jabs and stabs, his movements still smooth and fluid as he thrust his other hand out, twisting it as he did so, ripping all of the moisture from the roots in a single motion as he did so, causing the three roots to wither and break.

"Ok, what the Hades was that?!" Percy said loudly as he eyed the still smiling Leaf warily, his heart beating faster, as he ignored Ozymandias's curious stare as the clever little beast looked between the former Demigod, and Elf, his green eyes blinking curiously.

"Can't you feel it?" Leaf replied with a grin, raising her arms as she did so, the earth around her trembling before more roots erupted from the ground, and the winds blew strong, leaves beginning to whip around in the gusts like sharpened blades.

"Feel what?" Percy asked cautiously, his eyes still locked on Leaf, even as his right hand went to his hip, only to remember that he'd left his Valyrian steel sword, the one he had had forged by melting down the Targaryen's old jewellery, back in his chambers. With him instead just wearing a linen shirt, leather breeches and boots. With his usual array of armed guards all waiting at the entrance to the woods, some distance away for him, as he didn't expect to be attacked like this.

"The magic of the world, it is getting stronger by the day. Already I can feel nature practically singing out, singing out like it hasn't done in centuries." Leaf said with a wide smile, her golden eyes beginning to glow slightly as she looked at Percy, with a look of fierce joy. "So why don't we play, we can fight it out with magic, it'll take your mind off of your woes, and make you feel better, trust me."

Percy blinked at that, before he extended his hands, a tugging feeling appearing in his gut as he felt the water in the earth and ground, his senses sharpening even as the ground immediately around him trembled. It did feel slightly different, less like he was fighting for control, kind of like trying to force something through a too small hole. Instead he it felt easier, he felt stronger, not quite as powerful as he had been during his peak in Tartarus, but stronger than he had felt since he had first awoken in this world.

"So what do you say?" Leaf continued, the roots around her swaying about behind her hypnotically, like snakes preparing to strike, even as they began to glow blue and gold, the wood cracking slightly to show wisps of glowing blue and gold energy inside them.

Whipping his hand through the air, for Percy it was like riding a bike again, as he felt the water move to his will, swirling around him even as it covered him a shroud of water, energizing his body far beyond his base level. Even as a sword of water, a replica of his old blade Riptide, formed in his right hand. The earth beneath him shifting as he did so, with rocky spires beginning to protrude out of it in the immediate area around him.

"Ok then, let's spar." Percy nodded after a moment of hesitation, a smile spreading across his face at this sudden turn about, his previous worries fading as he just focused on the here and now, with Ozymandias chirping gleefully from the edge of the grove as he watched the two of them face off.

Leaf sent him another grin at that, before she lunged forward, the tendril like roots shooting down at him, even as the wind whipped around her, sending the blade like leaves shooting towards his water shrouded form.

Seeing this Percy slammed his foot into the ground, the action causing a dozen spikes of rock to erupt from out of the ground, even as he darted forwards, glorying in the feeling of power, power like he hadn't felt since he had been in Tartarus, even if he was still a far cry from his peak.

Shooting forwards the rock spikes struck two of the glowing tendrils as they hurtled forwards, causing two large explosions of fire as they did so. The force of the blast blowing the leaves and Percy away.

Though Percy quickly recovered, as he found his footing and lashed out with his blade of water, the blade extending into a long, thin water whip as he slashed through two more of the tendrils, causing them to explode again, only this time several dozen feet away from him, not that that stopped him from feeling the shockwave from the explosions, with him having to take a step back to brace himself.

Of course whilst he had been doing this, Leaf hadn't been idle, as she had instead transformed into a large, reddish coloured wolf, leaping forwards as she did so and rushing Percy from the flank as she darted around the outside of the grove, her movements lightning fast.

"Nice try." Percy replied as he twisted around, sensing her actions as he felt the vibrations of her movements through the water molecules in the air, reacting as he did so and sending off a blunt force blast of water on impulse.

In response to this though Leaf transformed into an eagle, shooting into the air as she did so and pirouetting around a blunt force crescent of water, letting out a screech of triumph as she did so.

"Shit a distraction." Percy muttered to himself, as he forced the shroud of water around him off of his body, instead creating a shield of water in front of him with it, as the two tendrils made to smash into him. The water solidifying into a half dome a couple of yards in front of him, even as the tendrils struck and exploded, blasting his shield apart and sending him flying backwards.

"You're out of practice." Leaf commented as she landed on the ground behind the off balance Percy, her leg sweeping out, even as her right arm shifted into the form of a clawed, bear like arm, snapping out with a heavy swat at Percy's unarmoured form.

"And you shouldn't give yourself away like that." Percy shot back at her, as he brought his legs up and fell backwards into a controlled roll, dodging the leg sweep, and the worst of the clawed strike, his shirt ripping but his flesh remaining unmarred.

"I have to give you a chance don't I?" Leaf responded easily, a branch snapping off of a tree above them, moulding into mid-air to become a javelin like spear as she caught it with a single hand, twirling it around as she did so, forcing Percy back for a few moments, before he managed to create another blade of water, the two of them now engaging in a swift back and forth, as Leaf showed herself more than competent with a spear, her thousands of years of experience no doubt coming into play.

Of course Percy was no slouch either, as his centuries in Tartarus and his time in Westeros proved, as he fended off her every attack, countering where he could as he tried to seek an opening. Something which wasn't easy, as although Percy was stronger than Leaf, she was far faster than him, hell she was faster than even a Child of Hermes or Mercury, Demigods that were well known for their speed.

Bulling forwards a few steps, Percy tried to get in close, taking away the advantage her longer weapon gave her, his strikes strong yet controlled as he choose to go with efficiency over sheer force and power, conserving his stamina as he instead tried to work out her style of fighting so he could find an opening.

Of course Leaf seemed to be prepared for that as with a flick of her wrists, she snapped the javelin in two, the two pieces of wood morphing into sharpened blades as she engaged Percy once more, her body like a maelstrom as she once again forced Percy backwards, landing two of three light blows on him as she did so, her blades creating shallow wounds on his arms.

"How are you doing this?" Percy grunted as he thrust his hand out, releasing an earthquake in mid-air, the vibrational energies ripping through the air forcing Leaf to stumble backwards a few steps and almost sending her flying, not that it stopped her for long as her bare feet morphed into clawed bird like feet, locking her in place.

"We Elves, we weren't just called the Children of the Forest because of our natural size you know. We were also called it because we are descended from the Old Gods themselves." Leaf responded, her nut brown skin flushing golden even as her eyes gleamed with joy and satisfaction.

"So you're kind of like Demigods in your own right then." Percy muttered to himself, getting a confused look from Leaf as she mouthed the unfamiliar term.

Pushing this aside though, Percy instead exploded forwards once again, the earth below him erupting upwards and showering the pair of them in dirt and stones as he rushed the amused Leaf, slamming into her lithe form with his body, his weapons forgotten as he instead tried to wrestle her to the ground.

Only for him to suddenly find himself with a knee in his stomach as he was flipped onto his back, with Leaf crouched on top of him, the two of them breathing heavily as sea green eyes, met golden. A wood blade in Leaf's hand and held at Percy's throat drawing a single bead of crimson red blood, even as a shard of ice was in Percy's right hand, the tip resting gently against her thigh.

"So, a draw." Percy muttered, as he looked into Leaf's warm, glowing golden eyes, almost lost in a trance at the fierce, primal beauty they held, noting however as he did so though, how old, wise and sad they were too.

"Why not." Leaf replied softly, her breathing calming even as she found herself unable to look away from Percy, the two of them pretty much face to face at this point, their weapons forgotten as they just gazed at one another.

For a moment neither one of them knew what was going to happen next, only for the moment to suddenly be ruined as a small, scaly body hurtled into them, Ozymandias swiftly ruining the moment as he warbled cheerfully, his green eyes twinkling with merriment as he looked between the two of them.

 **( - )**

 **(Sometime Later)**

It was sometime later that found Percy, or rather Tytan, cleaned up and recovered after his spar with Leaf, much to the relief of his guards, all of whom had given him very funny looks as he exited the seemingly empty, and heavily guarded woods looking very scuffed up, with several burn marks and scratches.

Most of them no doubt assumed that the baby dragon, Ozymandias, was responsible for the King's appearance. After all it was well known that the King had closed off access to the godswood to all but himself, as it was where he kept his dragon. Though just why he kept a fire breathing lizard in a forest raised a few questions, not that anyone was about to confront the King about it. No, they trusted him, and knew he was not entirely insane, enough so that they gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Either way Tytan was now dressed in his finest clothing and royal regalia once more, his guards Jamie, Arthur, Matthias and Ubba accompanying him as he entered a large airy chamber. His guards taking up positions around the walls, all of them armoured and armed, not that they likely had much to worry about considering who it was that Tytan was about to meet.

"Lady Tyrell." Tytan said with a short bow and a smile as he entered the room, and faced the only occupant, Olenna Tyrell, a small, plump elderly woman, who was dressed in modest, yet high quality clothing and currently sitting out on a garden balcony that was connected to the chamber.

The old woman's dark eyes flicking up at Tytan's entrance, even as they seemed to try and pierce him in place, watching him like a hungry cat might eye a particularly tasty looking bird. "Please your majesty, I think we can dispense with the formalities don't you think, after all there is no spectators here to perform in front of."

"You're as blunt and matter of fact as I heard you were." Tytan replied with a nod, his expression amused, and a wry smile on his face as he took the seat opposite the old woman.

"Tea?" Olenna asked brusquely, gesturing over to a small steaming pot on the table in front of her.

"I'm fine." Tytan replied, the wry smile not leaving his lips as he settled himself down in his seat.

"Then perhaps wine then, I heard you have an inclination for it, like your father." Olenna then continued on, her eyes locking onto him now, watching for a reaction.

Tytan hummed at that, before giving her an amused smile. "I'm fine for now, but I thank you for the offer."

"Yes, well you are the King, it is probably the least I can do." Olenna continued on in her brusque tone, before pinning him with her gaze once more. "Though I am curious just what the mighty, new, young King of the Seven Kingdoms wants with a little, old woman like me?"

"You like to be blunt and to the point don't you, so I'm not going to dance around my words. Your grandson Loras, is a stupid cunt, one who was thinking with his prick and was plotting with my Uncle Renly to usurp the throne from me, them no doubt thinking me young, malleable and easily deposed." Tytan began bluntly, his tone completely uncaring as he looked over at Olenna, not missing how the woman's face tightened minutely and her hands twitched. Despite that though she kept a straight face.

"Now, in response to that I had two options, they both could have died in an 'accident', maybe a lovers quarrel gone wrong, though that also would have likely shamed House Baratheon as well as House Tyrell as well. But either way you get my point, I like to think of myself as a creative guy, so I'm sure I could have thought of some way to quickly and quietly dispose of them." Tytan continued, his sea green eyes boring into the old woman before him.

"But you didn't." Olenna commented, her tone slightly softer than before.

"No, I didn't. Which is why you are not mourning the death of a grandchild, and the imminent deaths of your son, his wife and your other grandson, along with the extinction of your House. Because as you know Mace is as incompetent as Renly, as is your other grandson when it comes to matters of war, and Tarly and the other Houses wouldn't have rebelled against the Crown for you. No instead your House would be destroyed, and your position as Warden would be given to either the Hightowers or the Tarlys, depending on which one I felt was most loyal and which one I wanted to bind to me with my favour." Tytan continued, his expression still devoid of emotion as he gave Olenna his wolf stare.

Olenna again twitched at his words.

"But I didn't, instead I bullied Renly into submission, and proposed the betrothal between Margery and myself, binding the Tyrell's to me and the Crown through marriage. In return for which I will have the Tyrell and the Reach's eternal support and fealty." Tytan continued on, his tone brooking no argument, and holding not a hint of doubt on what would happen if what he said was not the case.

"I fail to see why you are telling me this." Olenna said after a few moments, her hands clasped in front of her, as the cold, ruthless gaze of the King bored into her.

"Because I think it is important that you know. You're an old woman, and have become very skilled at scheming and manipulating, so skilled that you seem to forget one important thing. Sheer brute power, ruthlessness and violence can scupper the cleverest of plans, and destroy the greatest of Houses." Tytan replied bluntly, his green eyes flashing as he knew from his experience in Tartarus, pussyfooting around achieved nothing, and cunning could only get you so far, as in the end raw power, was the true meaning of power.

"As Baelish and Varys likely found out." Olenna spoke up softly, unable to look away as she saw the answer in Tytan's eyes.

"I just wanted to clear the air so to speak." Tytan responded after a few moments, his gaze turning warm once again as he settled back in his chair. "After all we'll soon be family, and I would hate to have any misunderstandings."

Olenna didn't respond to that at first, as she instead just stared at Tytan, unable to look away. "You know I heard a lot about you over the years. Many spoke of how you drank, fought and whored like a young Robert, and were controlled by your vices and predilections like him. Others however spoke of your wit and intellect, and that you were truly blessed by the gods. But now I see the truth."

"Oh, and what's that?" Tytan asked, his gaze now placid as he gave her a pleasant smile.

"You are the perfect mix of your father and your grandfather. You are a warrior king like Robert, brash and confident. But that side of you is tempered by the cunning and absolute ruthlessness of your grandfather. You have both the best and worst traits of Tywin and Robert." Olenna finished, her eyes never leaving Tytan's face, even as her lips twitched upwards. "You'll make a good King."

Tytan blinked at that. After all the way he saw it, he was his old confident, happy go lucky Demigod self, only tempered by his experiences in Tartarus. He was not a natural born King, he was a natural born survivor, one who managed to last centuries in the pit, even if it did take him years to recover from the experiences after he escaped.

"Yes, you'll do." Olenna continued on, her tone more confident now, and her smile widening. "I had feared you would be a dumb brute like your father, but no this is much better, you're maybe not as malleable as I would have hoped, but you'll be a strong ruler, and a good match for Margery."

Tytan's smile now boarded on bemused now as he gave Olenna Tyrell an odd look. He had just told her how close he had been to wiping her family from the face of the earth, and she was looking at him like he was the son she had always wanted. This lady was weird.

 **( - )**

 **(Sometime Later)**

It was sometime later, about an hour or so after he had left the strangely amused Olenna Tyrell to her own devices that Tytan found himself meeting with the old woman's granddaughter, Margery. His mind, which at the time was already plotting out his orders to Qyburn about keeping a close eye on that old bat, going blank as he found himself facing the Tyrell family's most beautiful rose, Margery Tyrell.

With Margery being a tall, curvaceous girl, with flawless, slightly tanned skin, delicate facial features, full lips, a snub nose and long locks of glossy, brown hair that flowed freely down her back, almost to her waist. She was beautiful, she may not have the almost unnatural, ethereal beauty that Leaf had, but she was just as attractive in her own, more earthly way.

Now, for Tytan it had been a while since he had last seen Margery, she had been in the capital for a while now, but due to the amount he had on, he had not been able to officially meet her until now. And what a meeting it was, after all the last time he had seen Margery had been three years ago, and she had been a pretty, but still gangly and growing teenager, she had shown the promise of great beauty, but hadn't quite grown into it yet.

Well suffice to say, she had now grown into it.

"Lady Tyrell." Tytan said after a few moments, giving a slight bow to the younger girl as he did so.

"Please your majesty, we are betrothed to be wed, surely it is appropriate for you to call me Margery." Margery replied, her tone soft and lilting, as she extended a hand, allowing Tytan to take it, even as she gave him a curtsy of her own.

"Then similarly you should call me Per-, Tytan." Tytan replied, catching himself as he did so, before giving her a brilliant smile, one which Margery returned with a demure one of her own, playing the part of an innocent flower well, though considering her grandmother maybe that wasn't a surprise.

"Then Tytan it is." Margery replied sweetly, before she swept over and looped her small delicate hand through his arm, even as, with a bit of prompting from her, they began to walk through the Red Keep's rose gardens, attracting the attention of a few of the other people enjoying them that day.

"I have to say it's been a while since I last saw you Margery." Tytan began, his tone easy as he looked around at his sweet smelling surroundings.

"The tournament for your nameday three years ago. " Margery replied promptly with a smile, before a distinctly put out look spread across her face. "It was the last time I visited the capital, as I have been in Highgarden ever since."

Tytan nodded at that, curious as he did so about why someone as obsessed with status and social climbing as Mace Tyrell would do such a thing, before his mind suddenly went back to the girl's crafty grandmother.

"No doubt your grandmother Olenna had a lot of wisdom she wanted to impart." Tytan said in a dry tone after a few moments, getting a smile from Margery as he did so.

"Yes, she decided it was time she took a more active role in my life. Speaking of that though, I heard you met with my grandmother earlier today." Margery said, her lips curving upwards, making her beauty shine through more than ever. "She was very impressed with you."

"Hmm," Tytan hummed in response, before looking sideways at Margery, knowing as he did that this girl likely had a blow by blow account of the conversation, courtesy of her grandmother. "Yes, I just thought it would be good to get things out in the open, after all we are to be family aren't we?"

Margery pulled herself closer to Tytan as she heard that, her smile widening. "Yes, yes we are."

 **( - )**

 **(In the courtyard of the Red Keep, a few days later)**

"My King." Robb Stark said with a low bow to Tytan, as he turned away from the hundred or so mounted men at arms and archers, and the half dozen packed wagons that made up his column, a column that would soon be heading north, away from the capital city and instead back to Winterfell. The teenage Lord Stark instead turning to look at Tytan, who with several dozen of his own guards and a small host of other courtiers had come out to see Robb off.

"Come on Robb, call me Tytan." Tytan replied easily as he stepped forward, the golden, antlered crown on his head gleaming in the morning sun light as he did so.

"Then Tytan." Robb replied with an amiable nod, and a slight smile.

"Are you sure you want to be heading off so soon, it's only been a couple of weeks since you arrived." Tytan said, his smile widening slightly as he met the younger man's blue eyed gaze, noting as he did so that there was no resentment in them, nor anger, but instead a hint of warmth.

Robb shook his head as he heard that, a slight sigh leaving his mouth as he then turned to look back at his column, his blue eyes locking on his two sisters, Arya and Sansa, both of whom were in the back of one of the wagons, sat with their Septa, the both of them all packed up and ready to go home, home to their very worried mother.

Not that the two of them were all that keen on the idea, after all apart from the trouble with their father, they had had a mostly pleasant stay at King's Landing. Sansa had managed to socialise with the other noble girls of the court her age, something she didn't get the chance to do at Winterfell. Arya meanwhile had found a dancing teacher, or rather Ned had found her a Bravosi sword master to teach her the basics of the sword fighting style known as Water Dancing, something she wouldn't be able to do in Winterfell, especially not when under the ever watchful eye of her mother.

In fact neither of the two girls were currently speaking to Robb, after all, despite the unpleasantness of what happened to their father, they had still been treated well, what with the revelation of Baelish and Varys's manipulations coming to light, redeeming at least some of their father, and House Stark's honour.

Still he also knew that they were missing their mother, and nor was he irresponsible enough to leave his younger sisters in a viper's nest like King's Landing by themselves, hence they were coming back home with him, whether they liked it or not.

Looking away from his sisters, Robb's gaze instead fell on his father, Ned Stark, who by this point was already mounted and already wearing a black cloak and clothing.

Of course his father was not coming to Winterfell with him, instead he was bound for much further up north, the Wall. Though the King had made allowances for Robb, in the fact that both Ned and a score of other prisoners/ recruits bound for the Wall would be joining his column up north. A kind gesture from the King that was meant to allow Robb and his sisters to say a proper goodbye to their father, and spend a bit more time with him before he left them.

Robb sighed again at that thought, before he turned back to Tytan, his mouth set in a firm line. "No, I think my time in King's Landing has come to an end. It is time for me to go home, as the new Lord I have a lot of responsibilities to take care of."

Tytan nodded understandingly at that before he took another step forwards and extended his hand. "Well, it was good to see you again Robb, despite the circumstances."

"You too Tytan, I am happy to call you one of my friends." Robb nodded, genuine in his response as he did like Tytan. He was angry over what happened to his father, very much so, but he didn't blame Tytan for that, no he instead blame Baelish, Pycelle and Varys, the three conspirators that manipulated his father all so they could stage a coup and seize power.

Suffice to say he had watched on gladly when the eunuch, Varys, the last of the traitors had been beheaded. The plump, pale skinned man showing at least a shred of honour before his death, when he didn't cry out for mercy, or deny his sins, with him instead solemnly and silently placing his head on the executions block, stoically waiting for the axe to fall, and his life to end.

Still, despite this the traitors work was done and now Robb was the new Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, two hefty titles that came with a lot of responsibility. On top of that with his father now going to the Wall to live out the rest of his life as one of the sworn brothers, alongside his bastardy son, Jon, Robb now had to look after his mother and siblings, all of whom would likely miss the comforting and solid presence their father and husband gave off.

Clasping hands with Tytan in a firm handshake, Robb's blue eyes flickered upwards and locked with Tytan's intense green eyes. "The North remains yours my King, from this day till the end of days."

Tytan nodded at that, before he smiled. "Thank you Robb, I appreciate your loyalty and that of the North, know that I will respond in kind. Plus, despite the marriage between Joffrey and Sansa falling through, what with him taking on the name Lannister and going to Casterly Rock, I would still like to join our families together. My father was at least right about that much."

Robb cocked his head to one side at that curiously. "And there I was thinking that you were to marry Margery Tyrell."

"That I am." Tytan nodded easily, before he smiled slightly. "But I have a sister, and you're not wed yet."

Robb's lips twitched upwards in amusement at Tytan's not so subtle implication, before he rolled his eyes. "Are you trying to match me with your sister?"

"It's a possibility, one which, so long the two of you were happy, I wouldn't be against." Tytan replied with a shrug, knowing as he did that his sister, although young, did have a crush on Robb, and also that they would only be married when she was of age. "Just think it over as a possibility."

Robb nodded at that, before moments later the two broke apart.

"Have a good journey north Robb, and try not to miss me too much." Tytan then said as Robb turned and around and mounted his horse.

Robb nodded at that. "Rule well King Tytan."

 **( - )**

 **AN: So that's the chapter, what do you all think? I hope you enjoyed it. There were a few interesting things happening, what with an interesting meeting between Percy and Leaf and the realisation that magic is returning to the land. And like I said before I have decided to take a different path in regards to the magical creatures and beings in the Ice and Fire verse, as I feel there is a lot of scope to play around with their origins and to develop them. Which will apply to both White Walkers, Children of the Forest, the Gods and many more.**

 **That being said I am also still interested in the human aspect of the story, the interactions and the relationships and the balance of power as Percy tries to become a true King, whilst also helping his people how he can. Taking into account the issues that revolve around societies advancing too quickly, and what the spread of education among the masses leads to in regards to aristocracy.**

 **On top of that we have other people planning mischief as Dorne is now entering the story, with Lysa and the Vale getting more development next chapter, even as Stannis and Daenerys, as well as the White Walkers have their own plots and plans and what not. Just thinking about it is giving me a headache, and I've got to write it.**

 **On another note someone managed to catch onto the names I give the character I added in, and the implications said names have. So well done for that, though I am a bit disappointed that no one has worked out my reason behind one of the names yet.**

 **Either way I hope you enjoyed the chapter, I really enjoyed writing it. On top of that for those who expressed interest in my North of the Wall Percy Jackson story, two tester chapters have now been published under the title 'the Frozen Throne', so if you've got time please do give it ago, I'd love to hear what you think.**

 **So yeah other than that please review and continue to support the story. Thanks for reading and I'll see you later.**

 **Greed720.**


	20. Chapter 20

**AN: Hey all, so it feels like it has been a while for this story, but really it hasn't been that long. Either way here I am with a new chapter, I hope you all enjoy it and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones.**

 **( - )**

 **(Last Time)**

 _Robb's lips twitched upwards in amusement at Tytan's not so subtle implication, before he rolled his eyes. "Are you trying to match me with your sister?"_

 _"_ _It's a possibility, one which, so long the two of you were happy, I wouldn't be against." Tytan replied with a shrug, knowing as he did that his sister, although young, did have a crush on Robb, and also that they would only be married when she was of age. "Just think it over as a possibility."_

 _Robb nodded at that, before moments later the two broke apart._

 _"_ _Have a good journey north Robb, and try not to miss me too much." Tytan then said as Robb turned and around and mounted his horse._

 _Robb nodded at that. "Rule well King Tytan."_

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 20**

 **( - )**

 **(In King's Landing, the Red Keep)**

Taking a sip of wine from his goblet, Tytan's half lidded eyes surveyed those present in the large, Small Council chamber before him. His gaze moving slowly over the assembled members of his new Small Council, and the people that he would be using to run certain aspects of his kingdom for him, relieving some of the pressure on him and allowing him to do other things.

Slowly his green eyes moved from the primly sitting Olenna Tyrell, who sat their drinking her tea, doing the same thing as Tytan as her sharp gaze moved around the room and over the other members of the Small Council, aside from the King of course. The older woman in question, having taken the position as Master of Coin, for the moment at least. After all the Tyrell's were a fabulously wealthy House, and had been that way for many centuries now for a reason. They were shrewd with their finances, and clever with their investments. Tytan could only hope Olenna, the sharp and intelligent woman that she was, had picked up some of these traits.

Next to Olenna there was an older looking blonde man, with slightly greying hair, angular facial features, blueish green eyes, and a slightly portly build. This was Kevan Lannister, Tywin Lannister's younger brother, and so Tytan's Uncle.

Despite the man having only just recently arrived in the Capital, he had already been elevated to the Small Council, due in part to nepotism of course, but also because the man was capable enough at carrying out his duties, plus after having grown up with Tywin he was also likely used to dealing with backstabbing snakes.

Which is why Kevan had been named as Hand of the King, a reasonable enough appointment, and one that Tytan was content with for now. After all, the man was not stupid, he had a good head on his shoulders. On top of which he was loyal to his family, a trait Tytan liked, and one that would ensure he didn't betray his trust.

After Kevan there was then Renly Baratheon, Tytan's Uncle, the old and current Master of Laws, who even now was looking bored. Not that that really bothered Tytan, the man was here for token reasons, he was here to ensure Tytan could keep an eye on him, and to make sure the Stormlands remained tightly bound to the Crown. The man's general disinterest in his duties, was also not a problem as Tytan himself had happily assumed those duties back when Robert had been alive, and would continue to do so.

Sitting on the opposite side of the table to Renly, there was then Maester Qyburn, a sallow faced man, with thinning grey hair, long fingered hands and clever, pale blue eyes. He had been appointed to the positon of Master of Whispers, and had also assumed Pycelle's old duties on the Small Council.

As far as Tytan considered him, the man was decent enough, if a little creepy at times. He had been a recommendation from Cersei and had thus far proved himself very useful, loyal and competent. All of which were highly desirable traits. Which is also why Tytan had appointed him to his current position, plus the man had already assumed both Varys's and Baelish's old spy networks, managing and combing both to extend his eyes and ears across both Westeros and Essos.

Taking another sip of wine, Tytan's gaze moved over to the last seat in the room, the empty one, the one that was set aside for the Master of Ships.

Originally, during the reign of Robert, the position had belonged to Stannis Baratheon, only for the man to have been stripped of the position by the new King when he didn't come to the court as ordered and swear fealty.

In fact Stannis had been ignoring all the messages Tytan had been sending to Dragonstone by raven, which had annoyed the new King to the point at which he had sent one of his men to Dragonstone to deliver the message in person. After all Tytan was of the opinion that something was not right, the Stannis he knew was obsessive in carrying out his duties, he did not shirk them, nor did he hide away in his castle.

It was just a pity that neither Varys nor Baelish had managed to get an agent into the castle. With Stannis having banned brothels from the island early on in his lordship of the island, and the nature of the island not lending itself to the climate in which street urchins, like the ones Varys had tended to use, were suited. On top of which Stannis was savvy enough to take advantage of benefits of his island fortress to ensure no one spied on him.

It was admirable, but currently it was damn annoying.

Not that Tytan let it bother him too unduly, the man no longer held the Seat of Master of Ships, with Tytan having assumed control of the responsibilities for that too. Or at least he had for the moment, until he found someone he deemed suitable enough to take on the positon. Someone who understood ships, and naval tactics, someone who could impress even Tytan, the former son of a sea god. So far he was thinking of maybe bringing in an Iron Born, one who wasn't absolute scum that is. Or perhaps a Redwyne, he was yet to make up his mind.

So far though the appointed members of his Small Council were working out well. Things were running smoothly, and Tytan had managed to cast off a lot of responsibilities, allowing him more time to spend with Leaf and Ozymandias, or with Margery, or even occasionally with his sister Myrcella.

In fact he had been in the midst of walking through the city with Margery when the meeting he was currently in had been called by Qyburn. Something which Tytan had grudgingly accepted to attend, with him first escorting Margery back to the Keep with both of their guards following after him.

"So is there a reason for the abrupt meeting?" Tytan asked easily, as he took another sip of his wine, starting off the meeting as he did so.

"Yes my King," Qyburn replied instantly, his gaze fixed on Tytan to the exclusion of all else. "We received a message from the men you sent to Dragonstone."

"And?" Tytan asked, sitting up straighter in his seat now.

"It's empty, the fortress has been abandoned, and the fleet that was based there is missing. Stannis it appears has gone. Your men spoke to some Smallfolk that had remained behind, and apparently Stannis left several weeks ago, moving in secret and taking all those loyal to him with him, as well as more than a score of the Kingdom's ships, both warships and trade ships." Qyburn said uncomfortably, hating the fact that this had happened and he hadn't known about it.

"How are we just finding this out now?" Tytan asked with forced calm. "How could he have made such a large move without anyone noticing?"

"Alas my King we had no contacts on the island, and the retainers Stannis did leave behind, those who refused to come, the prominent ones, they were all killed, their throats slit and their bodies burned." Qyburn continued, looking around the room as he did so, even as he finished passing on the dire news.

"That sounds out of character for my brother." Renly spoke up bluntly.

"Yes, Stannis might have been a humourless man, and far too serious, but he was not a butcher. Nor was he the type who would turn his back on his Kingdom." Olenna pitched in, adding her own opinion on the news to the discussion.

"It does seem odd." Kevan Lannister said slowly, before he looked to his nephew. "But Stannis has been stewing in discontent for many years now, ever since your father, Robert, snubbed him by naming Renly Lord of the Stormlands, and Stannis as merely the Lord of Dragonstone."

"Well that was the reason why he was always so grim, that and his disfigured daughter too, but if he didn't rebel when Robert was King and was running the Kingdom into the ground, then I doubt he would have done it when Tytan took power." Olenna replied her gaze sharp.

"Unless he thought he could take advantage of the instability a new ruler often brings, even if only temporarily. After all when King Tytan took power he locked King's Landing down, allowing no entry in or out for several weeks. This caused disruption, which could have given Stannis the opportunity he was waiting for." Qyburn replied carefully, before he looked to Tytan. "Not that your decision was bad my King, what with Varys, Baelish and Pycelle having tried to implement a ' _coup'_ , it was a wise decision."

"But why would Stannis flee?" Tytan asked into the silence that followed this statement, still trying to come to terms with what had happened. "Sure we were never friendly, but we weren't antagonistic either. As Renly said, this entire thing is very out of character for Stannis."

"Indeed your Majesty. However before all of this happened, news had already reached the Capital of Stannis's conversion to the worship of R'Hllor. Rumour also had it that a High Priestess of R'Hllor had also taken up residence at Dragonstone." Qyburn replied slowly. "I cannot profess to know a huge amount about the religion or its priestess but I do know it is a vicious faith, one that is very popular in Essos."

"So you think Stannis found religion, and that's why he left. What you think this is him doing a pilgrimage?" Renly asked loudly, his tone mocking.

"No, I see Qyburn's point." Tytan cut in sharply. "Religions tend to inspire fanatics, and some of those same fanatics could have the charisma and the will to manipulate and inspire others. Its possible Stannis has been manipulated, or has become a fanatic himself. This priestess probably played on his discontent, his desire for more and used it."

"But to what end?" Olenna asked sharply, her gaze locked on Tytan. "Why would he flee, what does he gain by giving up his land and fortress and having himself painted as a traitor."

"I'm not sure." Tytan muttered, before he paused. "Unless he is going to Essos to recruit allies. The Targaryen girl still dwells there after all, and is married to a Dothraki Khal, one with an army of nearly forty thousand at his back."

"You think Stannis is going to help some Targaryen bint? For what reason? The girl could have a million Dothraki horsemen, but she'll never get them over the Narrow Sea, everyone knows that the Dothraki fear the 'poison water' as they call it." Olenna replied dismissively, revealing her knowledge of the Dothraki culture as she did, even as she dismissed the possible threat.

"Who knows what poison that priestess has been whispering in Stannis's ear?" Tytan shrugged, latching onto the possibility that Stannis was manipulated as he did so. "And if she can manipulate someone as strong willed as Stannis, surely she can do the same with the Targaryen girl and her husband?"

"I doubt it my King, as that was another thing I wanted to discuss." Qyburn spoke up. "Khal Drogo is dead, taken an infected wound, and his Khalasar has since dispersed. As for the Targaryen girl, she's gone missing."

"Well there we go then, problem solved and we didn't have to raise a finger." Renly spoke up cheerfully.

"Maybe," Tytan muttered, before he came to a decision. "Qyburn I want you to find out where Stannis is and why he betrayed the Kingdom, and what his plans are. On top of that I want to know the location of the Targaryen girl. Bring me news."

"Your Majesty." Qyburn replied with a bow, before he wrote a few notes for himself on the ledger in front of him.

"Kevan, I want Dragonstone garrisoned, send four hundred men under the command of someone loyal to the crown. Also have work begin on expanding the docks. With Stannis gone I am going to claim the island for the Crown and use it as Royal Navies new port." Tytan continued, looking to Kevan now, who just nodded in reply.

Pausing for a moment at that thought, Tytan then looked up at Kevan again. "Also I want you to send a garrison to Harrenhal as well. The fortress has been empty for far too long, and with the last of the Whents dead, and no clear heir I am taking it for the Crown. Olenna I want you to see to it that the taxes are redirected into the Kingdoms coffers. Kevan I want you to move a thousand of my Goldcloaks to the fortress, I will talk to Ser Beric myself about excelling his recruitment and training of new Goldcloaks."

Kevan paused at that, but then nodded again, writing some notes into his own ledger as he did so. "I will see to it. The Tully's may complain, but you are well within your rights your majesty."

"A good enough idea, I will see to the taxes, and will also send word to my son and have some of the Reach's surplus grain and food sent over to Harrenhal. Free of charge for the moment." Olenna tagged on her lips quirking upwards. "As for the Tully's, they are little more than toothless fish. Hoster Tully will whine, but nothing more. Besides having a strong military presences in the Riverlands will be good. It'll protect the Kingdom's main trade routes."

"On that note I want you to increase the funding sent to Beric, my new Goldcloaks will need training, feeding, outfitting and paying. Use as much of the money we gain from Harrenhal as you think you need." Tytan continued, trusting the Tyrell matriarch as he did so.

"You know nephew, with the way you're talking it makes it seem like you are preparing for war." Renly suddenly said, no doubt feeling a little left out of the conversation now.

"Well of course he is, only a buffoon wouldn't prepare for the worst." Olenna replied sharply on Tytan's behalf.

Renly scowled at that, but didn't reply.

"I will go over the rest of the logistics with each of you individually." Tytan spoke up next, his gaze shifting over to Renly as he did so, before moving to the table at large, all of whom nodded. "Though Renly's comments do bring me onto another matter I wished to discuss. Lysa Arryn and the Vale."

"Ahh yes the shrill bitch." Olenna commented dryly. "Is she still causing trouble?"

"Yes, and it seems my marshalling my forces on her border have not made her back down." Tytan said with a slight sigh.

"Considering how unstable she is, maybe that's not a surprise." Olenna scoffed.

"Qyburn do you have any news for me in regards to Lysa?" Tytan asked, ignoring Olenna's comment as he instead looked to his Maester.

"The Lords of the Vale are all still refusing to rise up, in fact there is a growing bubble of discontent and talk of removing Lysa from her position. In fact I think it is only the goodwill the Lord's still have for her late husband's memory that is keeping her in power." Qyburn replied easily, flipping through his ledger as he looked for the notes he had on this particular situation.

"So they're not about to support her if she rebels?" Tytan asked.

"I highly doubt it. Maybe one of the younger and more impetuous Lords will, but none of the powerful ones. No, the only issues you may have are sellswords she still has in her employ, and the Eyrie's impregnable defences." Qyburn replied after a few moments of checking his notes.

"Good, because I think I've let this situation go on for too long." Tytan spoke up resolutely, draining the wine from his goblet as he did so. "It's time I end Lysa's control over the Vale and put someone more suitable in her seat, maybe Lord Royce, he'd make a good Warden of the East. It'll send a message to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms and will open up the Vale once again."

The other members of the Small Council looked at one another as they heard that.

"You will need a plausible reason for doing that my King. Otherwise such an action could be seen as unpalatable by many of the other Lords." Kevan spoke up carefully, looking to Tytan warily as he did so.

"The fact that she is gathering her forces and hiring sellswords, has refused to bend the knee and has blocked off the Vale is reason enough. Though if more is required, then I will have Qyburn manipulate the facts and spread it around that she has declared open rebellion against the Kingdom." Tytan replied sharply. "After all that is what she is already on the verge of doing. Plus I have evidence from Baelish's own mouth that Lysa was culpable in the death of Jon Arryn."

"That could work, if we spread that ahead of time it will undermine her positon in the Vale and would also encourage the Vale Lords to come to your banner when you march on the Eyrie." Qyburn said with a nod.

The other members of the Small Council nodded at that, even as they muttered about the best ways to portray the upcoming invasion of the Vale and dismantling of House Arryn, as well as which Lords would be best to call on to supply forces, the list including a select few Vale Lords, and some Westerland, Stormland and Crownland Lords. That was until Kevan asked a question of Tytan that garnered all of their attention.

"An important question my King is who will lead the army? Lord Randyl Tarly is a very skilled commander, and your grandfather Tywin has many victories to his name?" Kevan asked easily, settling into his roll of Hand now as he and the rest of the Small Council slowly built up their rapport.

"Neither, for I will be leading the army personally." Tytan replied bluntly, his tone brooking no arguement.

Not that that stopped the other Small Council members from speaking their minds.

"But Tytan, you are still young and inexperienced. You maybe more than skilled with a blade, and possess powers beyond those of normal men, but leading an army is no easy task." Kevan objected.

"I think I'll manage." Tytan replied tightly, before he looked around at that others. "I will not be some Targaryen King, hiding away in my palace and letting others do my fighting. Instead I will be a Warrior King and will lead my men on the battlefield. I have these abilities for a reason, and I will use them to crush my enemies and protect those loyal to me. This is not a negotiation I will lead the army, I will of course listen to the advice of the other Lords with me, but I will lead, and I will have the final say!"

Tytan's tone was very sharp now, his words pointed as he locked eyes with Kevan. He was not some mewling boy, he was a warrior, a former Demigod, and he had centuries on the men around him. He would not stay in the Capital playing around with politics, not when there was a fight to be had.

On top of that he would use this situation to prove himself, and show what type of a King he was going to be. This was a chance for him to win himself acclaim as a military leader, and as more than just a tournament fighter. More than that it would also give him an opportunity to let loose with his strengthening abilities, and prove to all and sundry his right to rule.

"As you say my King." Kevan said after a few moments, giving Tytan a slight bow as he did so.

 **( - )**

 **(In Dorne)**

Standing against the stone balcony of his room, overlooking the barren, dry landscape of Dorne. Viserys couldn't help but gnash his teeth in frustration. The Tower of Joy that was where he was currently staying, a simple small squat building made out of reddish stone, on the northern edge of the Red Mountains.

It was not exactly an uncomfortable place to stay, as he had stayed in much worse when he had been in Essos, and it was a much better than the Black Dungeons. But even so it was not Sunspear the capital of Dorne, in fact that city was many leagues from here.

Viserys's aristocratic face twisted into a snarl at that thought. He was not allowed to go to Sunspear, his group had been stopped a few miles from the city by a troop of Dornish soldiers, led by one of the Princes of Dorne, Oberyn Martel. After which they had been told they could not enter the city, due to the possibility of spies, with them instead being directed here to this desolate tower.

Spitting over the side of the balcony, Viserys could see some of his soldiers down below. Four of them were currently walking around the perimeter of the tower, wearing just their chainmail and carrying their shields and sheathed swords, the heat having caused them to divest themselves of the rest of their equipment. Even so despite the heat of the day they were still keeping watch, looking out for any trouble.

It had been a few days now since they had gotten here, and there was literally nothing to do, there was nothing around for miles, and the room he was in was sparse, with it just having an old, wooden framed bed and some dusty furniture.

According to his loyal servant, Ivar, the place had been abandoned for years now. It had at one point been one of the homes of Viserys's brother, Rhaegar, but had obviously not been used much since he had been butchered by Robert Baratheon.

Viserys let out another petulant sigh at that, before he turned from the windows and left his chambers, storming through the narrow, dusty halls of the tower as he instead headed for the main hall, the place he knew Ivar and most of the other men were lolling about, drinking, gambling and singing. Wasting their time, as they waited for something to happen.

"Ah King Viserys! Finally come down from your tower to join us common soldiers in a singalong!?"Ivar said loudly from where he was holding court, a cup of wine in his hand and a leg of some kind of meat, probably goat, in his other hand as he looked over to Viserys.

"No." Viserys bit out, his violet gaze looking over the blonde haired, blue eyed cutthroat, noting how he like the rest of his men had thrown off his black cloak, plate armour and chainmail, as he instead wore a simple tunic and leather breeches. "What I am here to do, is to find out why in seven hells we are still here rotting away in this tower?!"

Ivar smiled at that, his blue eyes flashing with amusement as he drank from his wine goblet, before sending the white haired boy a cool look. "We are here, because Prince Oberyn asked us too. He wants to meet with us, but he doesn't want to risk doing it in Sunspear or one of the larger cites or castles in Dorne, due to the possibility of spies. We are here, because we are waiting for that goat fucker to get here, so we can start making alliance and building you an army, _your highness_ …"

Viserys grit his teeth at that, but still nodded. "Well can't you send him a raven, tell him to hurry up."

"Because a raven will magically be able to find him…" Ivar replied dryly, before he shook his head. "Patience my King, that is all we need, patience. Oberyn will come, and when he does we can start building you a support base."

"Yes, well, fine!" Viserys snapped, before he turned and stormed out of the stone chamber.

"Little shit." One of Ivar's men grumbled as the white haired boy stormed away in a huff. "I swear if he demands I empty his piss bucket or bring him food again, I'm going to shove my foot up his fucking arse!"

"This had all better be worth it!" Another one of Ivar's men tagged on, looking to their smirking leader as he did so.

"It will, trust me. This will all work out in the end lads." Ivar replied soothingly, looking around at all the men he and Viserys, mostly him though, hand recruited since he freed Viserys. "And I'm talking riches, boys! That and castles, and titles, and women! Trust me lads, we stick it out with that jumped up shit and he'll make us all as rich and fat as even that bloated cunt, Mace Tyrell!"

The men cheered at that, some of them sloshing their wine in enthusiasm, hopeful that this venture would be a profitable one. After all there was a lot of risk behind it, as they were going up against King Tytan the Blessed, a brutal, ruthless and deadly ruler, and one with a large support base and at least four of the Seven Kingdoms in full support of him. Still with the big risk, hopefully came a big reward.

 **( - )**

 **(In Essos)**

Letting out a sigh of content, Daenerys for the first time in a while was enjoying herself. Especially now that her and her small group of Dothraki had gotten out of the Red Wastes and escaped the threat of starvation and dehydration. With them instead being safely hidden away behind the thick, and tall walls of Qarth.

Initially when the Thirteen, the ruling council of the mighty, wealthy city, had heard of her small Khalasar standing at their gates they had not been all that impressed. After all they numbered not even a hundred, and about a third of them were women or children, they were hardly a threat to the vast city and its small, but effective army.

In fact initially they hadn't even bothered to meet them in person or let them into the city, instead just telling their guards to wave them away. Or at least they had not, until they became aware of the two dragons that she had in her possession as well as Daenerys's name and thus her pedigree as one of the last Targaryen's.

After which all thirteen member of the Thirteen, their entourages and guards had come out to see Daenerys Targaryen and her small Khalasar, as well as her two dragons. After all dragons were a rarity, in fact they were considered all but extinct, and more than worth the effort of coming out to look and see.

Following on from which, after much talking and debating outside of the walls of Qarth, including Daenerys trying to throw her name about, she along with her Khalasar had eventually been given entry into the city, and were even offered free board at the residence of one of the Thirteen.

The man in question being a large, black skinned man named Xaro, who according to himself was the one of the richest merchants in all of Qarth, as well as a member of the Thirteen. With him also being the one who spoke up in Daenerys's favour, allowing her entry, and taking on the responsibility for her actions whilst she was within Qarth.

Suffice to say the man had been very kind to her, he had housed her Khalasar within the servant quarters of his estate and had invited Daenerys, her dragons and two of her hand maidens into his manse and given them beautiful rooms, and Daenerys herself a flowing dress made of some kind of gossamer fabric.

"Again, I can't thank you enough for all of your kindness." Daenerys said softly, as she sat back on one of his luxurious sofas, a soft smile on her face as for what felt like the first time in an age she felt clean, comfortable and safe.

"No thanks is needed, it is the least I can do for the Mother of Dragons." Xaro replied in a deep, rich voice, a kind smile on his large, round face.

Daenerys smiled again at that.

"After all your children truly are a rarity, in fact they are two of only three living dragons in the known world." Xaro replied with a large grin as his dark eyes shifted from the small, petit Daenerys and instead over to the wooden cage she was keeping her two children, Drogon the one with black scales and red markings and the large of the duo, and Rhaegal his smaller red scaled brother.

"Three!" Daenerys asked sharply, her violet eyes flicking up to Xaro now, her mind wandering back to her traitorous, murderous brother, and his theft of the green dragon egg.

"Yes," Xaro replied calmly, his smile fading slightly at her tone of voice. "Three, your two here, and the King of Westeros, Tytan Baratheon's dragon, Ozymandias."

"He's not the King!" Daenerys said abruptly, her eyes flashing at the thought of the usurper's son, the man sitting in her throne, before her rational mind caught up to her as she saw Xaro's eyes harden, "I apologise for my tone, I meant no offense. I just still feel quite bit of resentment to the Baratheon's is all."

Xaro's expression became warmer as he heard that, even as he waved her words away. "Worry not, I took no offense. But yes Tytan Baratheon also own a dragon, and has done for a number of months now, longer in fact than you."

Daenerys's expression tightened as she processed that, before she let out a sigh. "Then he has stolen one of my dragons from me, just as he stole my throne."

"Stole?" Xaro queried lightly.

"Yes, my brother Viserys stole one of my three dragon eggs from me several months ago, and fatally wounded one of my closest friends and advisers, after which he vanished, fleeing from my husband, Drogo's vengeance. Obviously he did not flee far enough, as Tytan Baratheon must have found him." Daenerys explained for Xaro's benefit, feeling oddly numb at the realisation that her abusive older brother must obviously be dead, otherwise how else did Tytan get the egg.

"I see." Xaro said with a nod. "What will you do about it?"

"I will take my child back from him, just like I will take my throne." Daenerys replied brusquely, looking up at Xaro now, her violet eyes filled with fiery determination.

Xaro's lips twitched upwards as he heard that, before he nodded. "Well to do that you'll need some help."

 **( - )**

 **(In the seas approaching Essos)**

"My Lord we are here." Davos said as he walked over to Stannis, his gaze travelling over his middle aged Lord as he looked out over the sea and over at the horizon, the red haired witch, Melisandre standing at his side. "We have arrived at Qarth."

"Good, ready the men. We'll dock up the flagship at their port. I want you Davos to move the rest of the fleet and find a sheltered cove further down the coast, you will have command until I return." Stannis said brusquely as he turned to look at the onion knight.

"Are you sure you don't wan…" Davos began to say, his gaze flicking over to Melisandre for a moment, only to be cut off by Stannis.

"No, you will not be needed. Instead you are to safeguard the fleet, and look after my wife and child, those are your duties. Lady Melisandre and I will head into the city." Stannis replied, his tone much firmer now.

"As you say." Davos replied with a bow, before he turned to head off and get some men and a rowing boat so that he could head over to one of the other ships and begin moving them down the coast, as per his Lord's orders.

"So we are finally here." Stannis muttered, watching Davos go for a moment, before he then turned to look at the massive port city of Qarth.

"Yes, and by the Lord of Light's we will find the aid we require and forge the alliances we will need to purge the servants of the Dark One from Westeros." Melisandre replied passionately gripping Stannis hands as she did so, before she then laid a hot kiss on his thin lips. "And then we can prepare for the Long Night, my Azor Ahai."

Stannis nodded at that, his gaze firm and resolve unshakeable, even as his lips curled upwards into a smirk.

 **( - )**

 **AN: So what did you all think? I hope you enjoyed it. It took me a couple of hours to write and I've only had one chance to go through it, so I hope it's fine?**

 **Other than that though I've not really got much else to say other than the plot is progressing, and there will be some cool action coming up soon, as well as more political machinations as this complex tapestry I weave continues to twist and turn. And that's not considering the things going on in the north, and I am going to need a POV to cover some of the events, including Ned Stark at the Wall and Robb Stark as the new lord.**

 **So yeah, other than that I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and leave a review!**

 **Thanks for reading and I'll catch you later.**

 **Greed720.**


	21. Chapter 21

**AN: So been a while hasn't it. What can I say I just didn't have the inclination or the inspiration to write until today. But still I got it out eventually, I hope you all enjoy it and leave a comment or a review.**

 **Thanks a lot for reading.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or Percy Jackson.**

 **( - )**

 **(Last Time)**

 _"_ _As you say." Davos replied with a bow, before he turned to head off and get some men and a rowing boat so that he could head over to one of the other ships and begin moving them down the coast, as per his Lord's orders._

 _"_ _So we are finally here." Stannis muttered, watching Davos go for a moment, before he then turned to look at the massive port city of Qarth._

 _"_ _Yes, and by the Lord of Light's we will find the aid we require and forge the alliances we will need to purge the servants of the Dark One from Westeros." Melisandre replied passionately gripping Stannis hands as she did so, before she then laid a hot kiss on his thin lips. "And then we can prepare for the Long Night, my Azor Ahai."_

 _Stannis nodded at that, his gaze firm and resolve unshakeable, even as his lips curled upwards into a smirk._

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 21**

 **( - )**

 **(In Dorne)**

"So this is the vaunted Viserys Targaryen is it, the future King of the Seven Kingdoms?" Oberyn Martell asked, a hint of mockery in his tone as he eyed Viserys up and down, clearly unimpressed with the white haired Targaryen. The Prince of Dorne looking almost the complete opposite of Viserys with his olive coloured skin, thick black hair, shrewd dark eyes and lean, athletic physique. Even the way he spoke was completely different to Viserys, with Oberyn's voice coming out deeper, and more confident, with it also holding a certain slyness to it as he continued to eye the silver haired Targaryen up and down.

"Prince Oberyn I presume?" Viserys shot back in his own reedier, higher pitched, slightly nasally voice, skipping over the older man's question as he instead eyed the other man up and down too. For all that Oberyn Martell was proclaimed to be a mighty warrior, he didn't look the part. Instead with his expensive silk clothing and slim build, he looked like little more than a simple oversexed noble, very much like those Viserys had met across the Narrow Sea.

"Come on now, manners my King." Ivar spoke up next, the blonde former native of the Vale having shrugged off his own armour now in favour of a thin linen tunic, though he hadn't dispensed with the sword and dagger he had belted at his hip, nor with the spear that he was idly leaning against as he observed the meeting between Dornish Prince and the would be King. "Prince Oberyn has come a long way to see you, at least try to be diplomatic."

Viserys shot Ivar a sharp look at those words, but said nothing more when he saw the cool, unimpressed look the blonde cutthroat replied with.

"Yes the journey to the Tower of Joy has been long. I am just hopeful that it is not time wasted." Oberyn suddenly chipped in again, his dark eyes flashing from the young King to his older, far more dangerous looking swornsword, before he looked back to his own guard.

Which consisted of a dozen armed and armoured Dornish men, all of whom were shifting around uncomfortably under the gazes of numerous armed men inhabiting the Tower of Joy, already he was regretting not bringing more with him just in case negotiations ended poorly.

"It won't be, I can promise you that much." Viserys replied with an attempt at a confident and sincere smile. "I have come to Dorne with an offer, an opportunity. One which would see House Martell elevated above all others!"

"Oh, and what is this offer?" Oberyn replied with a cocked eyebrow, his gaze boring into the gaunt, Targaryen's own overly bright violet orbs.

Viserys's smile seemed to widen as he heard this. "Now that I, the true and legitimate King of the Seven Kingdoms have returned to Westeros, the time is ripe for the Targaryens to be reinstated to their proper place."

"You want the Iron Throne then." Oberyn grunted, the curiousity sliding off his face now, with it instead being replaced by a look of boredom. "How would that help Dorne?"

Viserys's eyes sharpened at that comment, his lips curling upwards minutely at what he deemed to be an insult. But only for a moment though before he gathered himself, his lips twisting back into an attempt at an inviting smile. "Well for one by helping me reclaim my birth right you will have favour with the King, you will also get the opportunity to slaughter the Lannister's for their actions towards both your family and mine. But of course there is more than that, I am sure more than a few Houses will turn traitor and try and support the usurper Tytan Baratheon. These families will of course need to be exterminated, which will incidentally leave their lands free and open for the taking, for those who chose to assist a generous King"

"So you offer land, riches, influence and revenge, in return for what?" Oberyn asked, a glimmer of interest entering his gaze now. "What exactly is it that you want from Dorne?"

Oberyn's older brother Doran might be satisfied with the punishment Tytan had given both the Mountain and Amory Lorch, but Oberyn wasn't. So long as either of the men still drew breath he would never be satisfied. Similarly for the puppet master Tywin Lannister, the man he deemed just as guilty for the death of his sister and the murder of her children.

Tytan Baratheon might have neutered the Mountain and sent him to rot at the Wall, but he had not said a thing against his grandfather, nor made a move since becoming King.

"Dorne's help in retaking the throne. With the assistance of Dorne's navy, army, agents and contacts, I will be able to draw in more supporters, those who are dissatisfied under the tyrannical rule of the Baratheon's, and who hunger for the days of old, the golden days under Targaryen rule." Viserys replied, his tone filled with almost fanatical passion as he locked gazes with Oberyn.

Oberyn cocked his head to the side as he heard this spiel, his dark eyes flickering over Viserys's shoulder to the several dozen armed and dangerous looking men. There were not many of them, but it was a start. "And what about when the King hears of what we are doing and rides out to put an end to our rebellion before it can even start? He is not known as Tytan the Blessed for nothing, surely you've heard of the divine gifts the Seven have bestowed him with? On top of that from what I've heard he has a now dragon too!"

"Tytan will not be an issue." Ivar cut in now, attracting the attention of both nobles now as he leant his spear against a nearby table and walked over so he was standing opposite the two men, the three of them standing in a triangle.

"And how do you figure that…?" Oberyn asked, before he trailed off as he remembered he didn't catch the man's name.

"Ivar," Ivar replied with a smirk, giving a short and almost mocking bow to Oberyn before he stood up and met the man's gaze easily, not looking away for a moment. "And trust me when it comes to Tytan Baratheon I am somewhat of an expert."

"Ivar," Oberyn muttered, before his dark eyes widened, after which they narrowed again in suspicion. "I've heard of you, you are one of Tytan's personal guard, one of his closest companions aren't you?"

"I was yes, until he became King and offered us, his loyal men, absolutely nothing. After that slap to the face, and after it became clear that he never would give me what I was due, I freed Viserys here. Then I gathered as many ambitious and skilled men as I could and brought them all down here to Dorne." Ivar shrugged easily, unperturbed by the sudden look of distaste on Oberyn's face.

"So you are a boneless, cowardly craven. You turn your back on your friend, your liege lord for little to no reason, and then expect me to trust you?" Oberyn asked incredulously, looking between the scowling Viserys and still smirking Ivar now.

"You call me boneless or craven or whatever you want. I just think of myself as practical. I saw the opportunity Viserys presented and decided to grasp it. Was it honourable or noble? Fuck no! But I'm not a noble, nor was I brought up with privilege and thus have the chance to learn about honour and all that noble shit. No I dragged myself up from the gutters, and now stand before you, ready to share in the same opportunity that you yourself are being offered!" Ivar shrugged, completely unperturbed by any judgement, he was who he was.

Oberyn watched Ivar cautiously for a few moments, before suddenly his face broke into a smirk. "Ha, maybe you aren't so bad. Ambition, is something I can respect. The will to do what you have to do, to benefit yourself that too I can understand! Alright then tell me what you know, why the mighty King Tytan Baratheon is not as much of an issue as I fear he might be?"

"Yes, do tell Ivar." Viserys tagged on, with him having been silent during Ivar and Oberyn's interactions thus far, feeling a little left out, which was something he soon wanted to rectify.

"Tytan Baratheon, his mother has created a cult of personality around him. Sure he's good enough with a blade, having the best teachers including Jamie Lannister will do that. But he has little to know experience of actually leading armies or real fights. On top of that his divine powers, they are little more than party tricks. Sure he admittedly has some mystical power, but it is little more than water magic, something that more than a few hedge wizards, or sorcerers over in Essos could replicate, or at least from what I've heard they can." Ivar began, his tone loud and holding a hint of mockery in it as he looked around at the assembled group, as if he were amused by their worries over the young King.

"So the rumours about him are just that, rumours?" Oberyn asked intrigued.

"Most of them are yes, most of the running of his kingdom is done by his mother and the Small Council, a Small Council which is now significantly smaller after Varys's failed attempted coup not that long ago. No, Tytan is as prepared for being King as his father Robert was, and we all know how good a King he was…" Ivar trailed off, sharing an amused chuckle with some of his men in the room.

Robert Baratheon's reign after all was known for stagnation and corruption. The man had been a great warrior, a monster on the battlefield, but when it came to actually having the ability to rule competently, well in that regard the man had been distinctly lacking.

"And what of the dragon?" Viserys asked quickly, Ivar had not mentioned any of this to him before.

"Ozymandias? The beast looks like it's going to be a runt, and an uncontrollable one at that." Ivar shrugged dismissively.

"Well it's not surprising that he can't control it, only a Targaryen, someone with the blood of the dragon, can control an actual dragon." Viserys sniffed, a distinctly superior look on his face now. "Once I've toppled this pretender I'll take the dragon and show you all what a true Targaryen can do!"

"So that is your perception of Tytan Baratheon?" Oberyn asked, ignoring Viserys now as he focused on Ivar to the exclusion of all else.

"From one of those who knew him best." Ivar confirmed easily.

Oberyn hummed as he heard this, before he looked around at the room again. "It is still early days, but I will say this much. Although I will not commit yet, I am at least interested in hearing more about your plans to retake the Iron Throne."

Viserys's smiled widely as he heard that.

Before he could say anything though, Ivar piped up again. "And as a Prince of Dorne we appreciate your potential support. I am curious though about what your brother, Prince Doran, the ruler of Dorne will say?"

"I love my brother, but he is a cautious man, overly cautious at times." Oberyn replied very carefully. "If I believe it is right to support the young Targaryen's claim to the throne, then I will try to convince him. If I succeed then that will be wonderful. If I fail though, if I fail then I might have no choice but to remove him from his current position, and force him into a peaceful, early retirement. For too long has Dorne stagnated under his rule, if he does not get on board, then it might be necessary to make him move aside and make way for the future. Hypothetically speaking of course."

"Of course." Ivar nodded with a smile. This Oberyn was a man he knew he could get on with. He was as ambitious and ruthless as Ivar, and was willing to do whatever it took to protect and elevate himself and those he cared for. Even if what was necessary to ensure the best for his loved ones, meant hurting those he loved. This man seemed to have the will and conviction to make sacrifices if necessary.

"That being said I believe there is a lot more to discuss before I decide anything." Oberyn continued, looking to the other two men now, before he gestured for them to all sit down at the table.

All the while none of them noticed the large hawk sitting in the hall's rafters, its golden eyes locked on the ongoing discussions below. Its held cocked to one side in interest as if it could actually hear and understand what was happening.

 **( - )**

 **(In Winterfell)**

Riding through the familiar stone gateway and into the courtyard of Winterfell, Robb Stark took a deep breath, joyfully taking in the scent of home.

For Robb the last few months had been stressful to say the least. Firstly his father had been imprisoned down in King's Landing, not that long after taking up the positon of Hand of the King, Hand for a King that later died. After which Robb had had to then ride down to King's Landing with all haste to hopefully smooth things over, collect his sisters and swear fealty to the new King. This had led to him meeting up with his friend of sorts, Tytan, the new King to whom he swore his oath of fealty. Following on from which he had had to trek up north again after barely a week in the capital, this time taking with him his father who was bound for the Wall due to his crimes, and his frightened and confused younger sisters.

Yes, an awful lot of stuff had happened in a very short amount of time. But now it was over, he was back home in his sanctuary, and so too were his sisters, and his father. Though his father would only be here for one more night before he would then continue on up north to the Wall where he would then only have the Brothers of the Nights Watch and his bastard son Jon for company.

"Lord Stark!" Maester Luwin hailed as Robb led his column into the courtyard of Winterfell, the carriage holding his sisters and some supplies trundling after him along with two dozen armed and mounted Stark guardsman and the now black cloaked Eddard Stark.

"Luwin," Robb smiled as a stable boy grabbed the reigns of his horse, pulling himself down as he did so, before he then approached the old, grey cloaked Maester, his blue eyes then trailing over to the familiar figures of his mother, Catelyn, his youngest brother, Rickon, his now chair bound but very much aware younger brother, Bran, and finally his friend, Theon, all of whom had just come out of the keep to greet them. "I'm home."

"And we're glad you are, I honestly thought I might never see you again." Catelyn said softly, gently cupping Robb's cheek with her hand and kissing him on the cheek, before she then looked passed him and at Eddard and her daughters, some of the tension in her face disappearing as the last members of her immediate family returned home safe and sound.

With that said his mother swept off to her embrace both of her now crying daughters, clutching them to her tightly as she shed a few of her own tears, before she then embraced Ned. Any anger she might have been feeling towards the Stark patriarch fading for the moment. Though Robb knew it wouldn't be long before she laid into Eddard, after all she, perhaps unreasonably, blamed him for allowing himself to be manipulated by Baelish, and for the current situation he had put the family in.

Smiling slightly as he saw his sisters, mother and father greet his two younger brothers exuberantly, Robb could not help but let out another sigh of satisfaction. Despite all the stress and anxiety it had all worked out in the end, all the members of his family were safely back home, even if his father would soon be going to the Wall, and it was all thanks to his friendship with Tytan.

Honestly Robb had thought a lot on what had happened over the last few weeks on the road, and he had quickly come to the realisation that were it not for Tytan, his father would likely have been beheaded, and House Stark's name dragged through the muck, with them also likely being stripped of their Wardenship of the North.

The King truly had been magnanimous and merciful in regards to this issue, showing genuine wisdom in his decision to not alienate the North and instead show mercy to his father, whose only crime was allowing himself to be manipulated.

Robb owed Tytan Baratehon a debt, he knew that much, and he would pay it, even if it meant his lifelong friendship, loyalty and fealty to him no matter what. After all Lannister's were not the only ones who paid their debts.

"Lord Stark, a word if I may." Maester Luwin said quietly, breaking Robb from his thoughts as he turned away from his happily reconciling family and over to the aged Maester. "In private."

Robb cocked an eyebrow at that, but nodded, he was tired and travel weary but he could read the expression on Luwin's face, this was serious. Which is why, after excusing himself from his family all of whom were now heading into the warmth of Winterfell's great hall, Robb instead headed upstairs to his father's, now his, office. Both Maester Luwin and surprisingly Theon leading the way.

"So what is it that's so important then?" Robb asked tiredly as he entered his office, shrugging off his heavy, fur cloak and allowing Theon to hang it up for him, after which he took a seat behind his thick, oak desk. "I've been travelling continuously for the last few weeks, I am in need of a proper meal and some rest!"

"It won't take long my Lord." Said Maester Luwin.

"But seriously you need to hear it, the sooner the better." Theon tagged on, licking his lips nervously as he looked around the room, after which he then headed for the door. "I'll be back in a minute, Maester Luwin can explain some of it while I'm gone."

Robb frowned slightly at the strange way his friend was acting as he saw him quickly leave the room, after which his gaze moved back to the balding, wrinkled Luwin. "What's happened?"

"Well firstly we have some potentially good news." Maester Luwin began with a forced smile, pulling out a furled up scroll from his robes, a scroll which quite noticeably held the crowned Stag seal of the King. "Not two days ago we received a raven from King's Landing."

"Oh, and what has Tytan got to say?" Robb asked curiously, wondering as he did whether there was another issue, or whether his friend had changed his mind about something. Honestly with someone as unpredictable as Tytan he couldn't even begin to guess.

"The missive contains a marriage proposal, a proposal between yourself and the Princess Myrcella, once she comes of age of course, and so long as _both_ of you are amenable to the marriage. He was quite clear on those last two bits." Maester Luwin said with a slight smile, proffering the scroll over to Robb, who in return took it before he began reading through it.

"He had mentioned he was thinking on this, but I didn't think he would act so soon." Robb muttered to himself as he read the message, ignoring the standard platitudes and instead getting down to the detail, including the very generous dowry the King was offering for Myrcella's hand.

"No doubt he wants to act before you chose another suitor, you are a Lord and of the age after all." Maester Luwin replied with a chuckle, before his expression become more serious. "But also I think he is making a statement, especially in light of your father's… recent actions and the decline in House Stark's reputation."

"He wants to make clear that we have not lost his favour, that and he obviously wants to bind House Stark and the North to him closer than ever, especially now his father is dead and your father is being sent to the Wall." Maester Luwin explained, his tone careful. "Now that you have returned and read it, you'll need to come to a decision and reply, and soon too. To do otherwise might be seen as an insult."

Robb nodded at that, rereading the message again as he did so. "I will think on it and ask both mother and father for advice. Though at the moment I am inclined to accept the offer, and have the Princess ward here while we get to know each other and until she is of age."

"A wise decision." Luwin nodded, before pausing when there was a knock on the door to the office. "But something to think on more later, for now there is another issue you need to know about."

"Oh?" Robb asked, leaning forward in his seat and carefully putting the King's message to one side as he did so. "Enter."

At his command the door to the room opened, and Theon came in, closely followed by another figure. This one being a very familiar looking, beautiful, red headed woman. A woman that was holding a wrapped up bundle in her arms.

"What is this?" Robb asked suddenly cautious, standing up from his chair now, after which he walked around his desk and approached the red haired woman.

"This is Roz," Maester Luwin began, not that he needed to introduce the beautiful red head to Robb, after all he was very familiar with the prostitute, very familiar indeed. "And not a couple of weeks ago she gave birth in one of the rooms here at the Keep."

"Ok, and why did my mother allow a whore to give birth to her child here?" Robb asked, his mouth suddenly growing dry as he edged closer to the nervous looking red head. He had not heard about any of this before he had left, then again it had been months now since he vacated Winterfell.

"Because of the boy's father." Luwin said very carefully, watching Robb closely as he edged closer and finally got a look at the minute, swaddled baby in Roz's arms. His blue eyes widening as he saw a pair of very familiar looking sea green eyes looking back at him.

"The child is the Kings." Theon said bluntly, not that he needed to as Robb knew what they said was true the moment he got a glimpse of the baby.

"Well shit…" Robb muttered, for want of anything else to say.

 **( - )**

 **(Near the Vale)**

Turning in the saddle of his horse and looking back behind him, Tytan could see the column of wagons and soldiers behind him stretching off far into the distance. Thirty thousand men, including heavy cavalry, heavy infantry, light infantry, archers, pike men and engineers for siege weaponry, and at least three dozen siege weapons. It was a larger army than any that had been fielded since the Greyjoy rebellion nearly ten years ago.

And that was not including the naval forces Tytan had sailing along the coast from Blackwater bay, three score war galleys, each of which was filled with marines and had ballistae and mangonels mounted on the decks.

This was an army that was made up nearly entirely of professional soldiers, with Houses throughout the Crownlands, Westerlands, Reach, Riverlands and Stormlands having sent some of their household troops to Tytan at his request. Bolstering the King's own eight thousand strong force of Goldcloaks, the rest of his loyal troops having stay behind to enforce the King's peace in both King's Landing and beyond. With thousands more already in training at the partially devastated keep of Harrenhal.

Thirty thousand men and they were all under Tytan's command. It was pretty daunting really, even for someone as mentally old as Tytan. After all, although Tytan had experience in leading and fighting in wars and battles, he had never led a force this large before.

Thankfully though he did have experienced commanders to fall back on if necessary, and to whom he could delegate certain tasks. Lord Randyll Tarly, was one such man, with him being a very capable Lord form the Reach who even now was riding his own horse only a few feet behind and to the left of Tytan's.

Tytan's grandfather, Tywin Lannister was another of these men, with the much older looking man having taken a position directly to Tytan's right. Riding along beside the black, plate armoured King, wearing his own Lannister coloured and emblazoned armour.

All around Tytan rode his other guards, both his personal guardsmen, and Jamie Lannister and Barristan Selmy from his Kingsguard, all of them clad in their own suits of full-plate armour, though none as grand as Tytan or Tywin's, as they rode their own massive destriers in a close formation. With banners bearing the crowned stag and many other sigils streaming over head as each group of soldiers flew both the King's banner and the banner of their own respective Lord and/ or House.

In the end it had taken several weeks to mobilise the army, and several more to meet up and head towards the Vale, but he had eventually pulled it off. Soon he would be entering the Vale and dealing with the Lysa Arryn issue once and for all. Yes, very soon he would be fully consolidating his kingdom and solidifying his rule.

"Has anymore news been heard from the Lords of the Vale?" Tytan asked into the relative silence that had overcome his companions, the only noise before he spoke, having come from the clip clop of their horses hooves as they rode along the road, the snorts of their mounts and the noisy racket of the army moving along behind them.

"Royce, Swann and some of the others have already replied. They have agreed not to ride to Lysa Arryn's aid if a battle does ensue. But nor will they join us, they have declared neutrality until the situation is resolved, basing their decision on their conflicting oaths to both the Crown and to House Arryn." Tywin Lannister replied firmly, the much older man glancing sideways at his grandson, his cold, blue eyes locked on Tytan's face as if trying to read his thoughts from his expression.

"Cowards." Randyll Tarly spat, literally as he turned to the side and spat onto the ground. "They merely don't want to commit their men."

"If that's their decision, it's their decision." Tytan replied easily, his expression unperturbed. "All that means is that when the dust settles and Lysa Arryn and her army of sellswords and traitors lie dead, that they will reap none of the rewards."

"Which is as it should be." Tywin nodded, before focusing on Tytan. "A prudent King though, he would use this as an opportunity to show his strength."

"You mean to browbeat the Lords of the Vale into turning against House Arryn, a House they have historical served and fought for, for millennia." Tytan asked dryly, locking eyes with his grandfather. "If they came to me willingly and brought their men that would be one thing, and something I would reward. If they turned their backs on me and joined Lysa then that would be something else, and I would punish them most harshly for it. If they chose to do nothing, then I am of the opinion that, for the moment at least, I will let things lie. With them neither get punished nor rewarded."

"You're merciful my King, too merciful I fear." Randyll spoke up, a scowl on the scraggy, dour looking man's face.

"Yes, by letting these 'Lords' act like this you are setting a precedent, what if others chose to act like this in the future, trusting in your mercy." Tywin asked, his brow furrowing now. "A wise King would heed counsel, and not allow such treachery pass unpunished."

"Maybe," Tytan nodded, before he smiled. "But a wise King would also trust in himself and his own gut feeling. Think of it like this, if I forced the men of the Vale to fight their own countrymen, to kill those they have grown up with, do you think they would thank me for it, or respect me for it? Or do you think it would lead to resentment, anger and frustration?"

"The opinions of the masses should mean nothing to you. They are your subjects and must do what they are told. If they do not then you should punish them. Remember Tytan, respect must be tempered with fear." Tywin advised, his tone bordering on condescending now.

"Fear though can lead to anger, and anger can lead to hatred, and hatred, well that can lead to rebellion. What happened to the Targaryen's is evidence enough of that. I do understand your point though grandfather, and agree that sometimes a King must be ruthless, but also I think sometimes a King must be merciful and understanding too." Tytan replied after a few moments of thought, the column continuing to move as they crossed the border of the Vale and continued on their way to the Eyrie. "That why I have decided to let things lie for now, instead I will focus on defeating Lysa, after that I will come up with a suitable way to deal with the Lord of the Vale, even if that means denying some of the larger and older Houses, Wardenship of the East.

Tywin didn't reply to that, but one only needed to look at the expression on his face to see he remained unconvinced. Nor did Tytan think that this would be the last he heard on this issue. No, ever since his grandfather and his five thousand Lannister troops had joined the army, the man had been harrying him, constantly trying to give him advice and tell him what a good King and a bad King would do.

His intent of course was obvious, the man was trying to exert some level of control over Tytan, something he had been trying to do through letters and Tytan's own mother for the last few months. Not that this direct approach was going to work any better than his indirect approach.

That being said, despite being annoying he wasn't sure he wanted his grandfather's attempted manipulations to stop. For all that they annoyed him, they also made him think. His grandfather's questioning and statements challenged him, it made him look back over previous decision he had made and weigh them up in a different light, that and they made him look forward too, and look into what he actually wanted to achieve.

Honestly Tytan had almost begun to enjoy talking with someone who could challenge him. His companions for all he got on well with them, and bantered with them, they never really challenged him mentally.

Leaf of course did, but the two of them only really discussed the history of Westeros and his world, the growing power of the supernatural and their individual philosophies, with her being a Child of the Forest, of the Old Gods, pretty much a Demigod here in Westeros, and he Tytan being a reborn Demigod from a different world.

Suffice to say their discussions were interesting and very enlightening, but they never discussed leadership, his methods, or Tytan's plans for his Kingdom.

Similarly with Margery they made small talk, and she made him laugh with her quick wit and sharp tongue. But they never really talked about anything serious, not yet anyway. Hopefully in the future she would become more outspoken, as he tended to dislike quiet, meek women.

A high pitch call overhead soon distracted Tytan from these thoughts though. The sudden unexpected sound making him look up, ignoring the two men riding beside him and the guards all around him, as he instead glanced up and saw a familiar, brown feathered, golden eyed hawk circling in the air above him.

 **( - )**

 **(In Essos)**

Qarth truly it was a massive, majestic and wealthy city, with thick walls and palatial buildings scattered throughout it. In some ways it put even some of the grandest and greatest cities in Westeros to shame.

That being said there was one bad thing about the place though, and that was that it was so damned hot.

Those were Stannis Baratheon's thoughts as he Melisandre, Davos and two dozen guardsmen walked through the city's narrow, dusty, crowded, sweaty streets.

For all of its visual majesty, this place was like hell, already Stannis had sweated through his linen clothing, the material sticking to him horrible along with the dust and sand from the street. On top of that he could already feel his flesh beginning to burn from the sun's powerful rays. ]

He had little doubt that this face was already as red as the ones of those around him, all save for the pale and beautiful Melisandre of course who merely strode through the streets with ease, not a drip of sweat on her brow.

They had been in the city for nearly a week now, and already he was sick of the place. His ships were all tied up on the city's docks, or anchored out in the bay. With his men having been given shore leave to do what they wanted.

Despite this though only now was he meeting with the Targaryen girl, and even then that was because he had had to strong arm a member of the Thirteen, the city's ruling council, into to setting up the meeting.

That was where he was heading to now, apparently the girl, her two dragons and her hundred or so Dothraki followers were all hold up in another member of the Council of Thirteen's manses. Living off of this Xaro man's wealth while she plotted out what she would do next.

Well Stannis would soon be helping her in that regard. He had ships and men, she had dragons and a claim to the throne, between the two of them they should be able to muster a large enough army to head back across the Narrow Sea and put Daenerys Targaryen on the throne, with Stannis of course being her husband and King.

That last part though could wait until later. For now what mattered was forging an alliance between the two of them, that and finding some financial backers, after which following, Melisandre's advice, they would head to Astaphor or Yunkai. Where they would hopefully be ably buy an army, whether that was an army of slaves or one of mercenaries though was a question for later.

It was with this in mind that Stannis passed through the gates to Xaro's manse, ignoring the spear wielding guards as he instead strode up the steps to the grand looking doors. Both of which swung open as he approached, a pair of bare chested guards bowing to him before they moved aside and waved him inside.

"Wait here." Stannis grunted to his guards, raising a hand to them and gesturing for them to loiter about outside whilst he went in, after which he, Davos and Melisandre stepped through the doorway and into the surprisingly cool interior of the manse.

Stannis's grey eyes moving automatically to the large, heavily built dark-skinned man he could see reclining lazily on one of the nearby, cushioned loungers, after which his gaze then shifted over to a young, but beautiful white haired girl he could see on another lounger.

The girl in question looking up as Stannis and his company entered the room, her violet eyes narrowing curiously even as she continued to feed the two small, baby dragons at her feet scraps of dried meat.

 **( - )**

 **AN: So what did you all think, I hope you enjoyed it? And yes there was more politicking, plots and interactions but that is part of what makes Game of Thrones so interesting. That being said there will be some action coming up soon, after all Tytan is going to war! On top of that there will be drama, romance and intrigue. I have lots and lots of stuff planned.**

 **That being said I am also very interested in seeing how the series ends. This month the last season starts, and I am really eager to know the ending.**

 **Already I am hoping that it is a complete White Walker victory, and that they all die, just as a final kick in the face to show just how pointless and futile all the plotting, manipulation and murder was in the end, and that sometimes death is just inevitable. That or Pod becomes the King!**

 **Yep, I am really looking forward to finding out. That being said I hope you all continue to enjoy this story and leave plenty of reviews and comments.**

 **Thanks a lot for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!**

 **See you all later.**

 **Greed720.**


	22. Chapter 22

**AN: Hey all here is the next chapter I hope you enjoy! I know it's been a while, but honestly it took a while to get back into the Game of Thrones franchise, especially after that piss poor season 8.**

 **Like seriously, when the TV series first ended I started to write the outline for this chapter. Only at the time I was sketching out a number of horrific and coincidental situations which would lead to the deaths of Arya Stark, Sansa Stark, Bran Stark, Jon Snow, and Tyrian Lannister, pretty much all the characters who's story arcs pissed me off.**

 **Like seriously the way the show handled the Long Night is a joke! And that whole bullshit of King Bran, what a load of complete nonsense. Seriously the writing for the last season was abominable, like all praise to the actors and actresses for working with what they were given, and the crew and people doing the sets, effects and costumes and stuff, they were all top notch. It's just they were all let down by the bad, lazy writing, and just how rushed it all was. Like seriously they could have turned that last season into two ten episode series, at least then the pacing would be acceptable.**

 **But yes, anyway. I could rant for quite a while about just how disappointing I found the last season. Again the cast and crew did the best they could with what they were given. But no, I'm not going to. Instead I'm going to endeavour to finish this story to my own satisfaction to get the bad taste of the last few episodes of season 8 out of my mouth.**

 **That said I know a lot of people have been asking about this story, so without further ado, here is the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones.**

 **( - )**

 **(Last Time)**

 _"_ _Wait here." Stannis grunted to his guards, raising a hand to them and gesturing for them to loiter about outside whilst he went in, after which he, Davos and Melisandre stepped through the doorway and into the surprisingly cool interior of the manse._

 _Stannis's grey eyes moving automatically to the large, heavily built dark-skinned man he could see reclining lazily on one of the nearby, cushioned loungers, after which his gaze then shifted over to a young, but beautiful white haired girl he could see on another lounger._

 _The girl in question looking up as Stannis and his company entered the room, her violet eyes narrowing curiously even as she continued to feed the two small, baby dragons at her feet scraps of dried meat._

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 22**

 **( - )**

 **(In Qarth)**

The man that had just entered the solar was an older, stern looking, Westerosi man, with thinning, prematurely greying hair, steely, cold blue eyes and a thin, hard face.

He was the kind of man that one would usually avoid if you passed him in the street. Just from looking at him, he gave off the air of a hard, stiff and unpleasant man, one that had been brought down by the burdens of life, but instead of breaking he had only grown tougher, meaner and crueller because of his experiences.

Despite his gruff appearance though, the man was clearly wealthy. The cut of his clothing, unsuitable though it was for Qarth's climate, was still obviously high quality, and the sword at his waist looked finely crafted and expansive.

That, and it was also the way he walked and the way he held himself, it was reminiscent of how the Magister's in Pentos had acted; confident, self-assured, powerful. This was a man that had power and authority, and had long since become used to it. Which of course meant he was a noble, probably a powerful Lord, if Daenerys had to guess.

Following closely behind the older man, were two of others. One of them another Westerosi, and one just as rough looking and weathered as the first man, only the second man was shorter and stockier. On top of which he had a fuller, bearded face, and a warmth in his dark eyes that was absent in the first man's.

Like the first man, this man was also dressed in finery, though once noticeably his clothing was not quite the quality of the first man's, despite that his clothing was fine and well made all the same, a minor Noble then, or a retainer for the first man maybe?

The other person meanwhile, she was a striking woman of indeterminate age. She had long, dark red hair, and pale, almost translucent skin.

This woman, she wasn't from Westeros, however at the same time it was hard to say where she did come from. She had the pale skin of a Westerosi, but her facial features appeared foreign. If Daenerys had to guess, she would say this woman was from neither Westeros or Essos, but from further afar, that or she was some hybrid, the bastard offspring of a couple from both Essos and Westeros.

Her clothing however, the long red gown, and red veil, along with the gold, ruby encrusted necklace on her throat, certainly identified her as a Priestess of the Lord of Light. After all there were other similarly dressed men and women all throughout Essos, not in Qarth of course, as the Sorcerers here held dominance, but in other cities in Essos, certainly.

Noting this Daenerys felt a slight discomfort rising up within her. The few Red Priests and Priestess she had come into contact with before had all been the same, they had all preached, more often than not fanatically, about their fire based religion, and tried to convert anyone and everyone they could into their way of thinking.

Still, propriety had to be followed, and as a guest here, it was expected of Daenerys to be cordial with Xaro's other guests, even if the sight of them made her stomach sink, and her heart beat faster.

With this in mind, she stood up from her reclining seat, her violet eyes taking all three of the newcomers in, even as she moved to stand in front of her two baby dragons. Her violet eyes narrowing as she eyed the two men from her homeland cautiously, even as she looked behind them and saw a number of armoured guardsmen waiting just outside.

Noticeably all of these men were bearing an unfamiliar crest on their shields and tunics, one of a crowned stag, with a flaming heart. An unfamiliar sigil, even if the sight of the crowned stag, the symbol of Tytan Baratheon, the King of the Seven Kingdoms, made her tense up.

Looking over to her current protector, Xaro, Daenerys couldn't say whether the dark skinned man's apparent calmness settled her nerves, or instead just made her tenser. After all this man could have sold her out, and be handing her to her enemies right at this minute. It wouldn't be the first time she had been betrayed after all, and if her own brother could do it, then surely anyone could.

"Who are you?" Daenerys demanded perhaps more abruptly than she intended, her eyes flicking between the three newcomers and her host, even as she felt some of her Dothraki shifting about at the back of the room, several of them rest their hands on their curved swords as they eyed the intruders cautiously.

"Be at peace my Queen, they are my guests, and your potential allies." Xaro cut in, the large man standing up now, both his hands rising as he tried to calm the situation.

Daenerys narrowed her eyes at that, but didn't say anything, instead she shot Xaro a searching, questioning look.

Likewise neither did the other three, as instead they continued to watch her. Though noticeably their gazes strayed more often than not to the two baby dragons, both of which were still scampering about behind her, apparently unaware of the sudden tense situation that they found themselves in.

"Now, I believe some introductions are in order." Xaro continued unperturbed, a bright smile spreading across his face as he looked between the two parties. "Now allow me to introduce Lord Stannis Baratheon, the Lord of Dragonstone, and the Seven Kingdom's former Master of Ships. Then beside him is Ser Davos Seaworthy, one of Lord Stannis' loyal advisors and retainers. And then finally, last, but not least, the Lady Melisandre, a high priestess and a loyal servant of the Lord of Light, R'Hllor."

"Baratheon!" Daenerys said sharply, her violet eyes flashing with both anger and fear. She had heard of this man before, this was Stannis Baratheon, Robert's brother, and the current King, Tytan's, Uncle.

From what she had heard, both from her brother, and the late Ser Jorah, Stannis was a severe man, a man of duty, and of principle. Which of course begged the question of why he was here, right now, meeting with her, a threat to his Nephew's throne. It seemed very out of character with what she had heard of the man.

Then again, it could be that it was because of his duty and principles that he was here. Maybe the Baratheon had seen the travesty that was the Usurper, Robert Baratheon's, reign, and thus decided that Westeros needed its true Queen. Maybe he was here because he recognised her claim and wanted to support it, even against his own blood?

Or maybe he was here to lure her away from the safety of Qarth in order to kill her, or to kill her dragons, before she, or they, became a threat.

"Yes my Queen, Stannis Baratheon." Xaro continued calmly, his smile not fading as he instead looked to the other three. "And thus allow me to introduce to you Daenerys Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons, the true Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, the Andals and the First Men, the Protector of the Realm, the Mother of Dragons, and the Khalessi of the Grass Sea!"

In response to this Stannis, Davos and Melisandre gave short bows.

"So now that the introductions are over, why do we not sit down? I believe we have much to discuss." Xaro continued, smiling broadly as he gestured for them all to take seats.

Nodding stiffly at Xaro's suggestion, Daenerys sank back down into her seat, her eyes fixed on Stannis as he too stiffly walked over and sat down in another chair opposite her, with Davos taking a standing positon behind him, whilst Melisandre sank into the seat next to Stannis, her curious gaze fixed unerringly on Daenerys, even as an almost, hungry, smile played about her face.

 **( - )**

 **(In the Vale, with Tytan)**

Standing on a large outcropping of rock, Tytan Baratheon's absentmindedly looked out over the seat of House Arryan, the Eyrie, and the mountainous lands that surrounded it. The gigantic, impressive looking, mountain fortress, looming large over everything else as it sand astride the peak of the Mountains of the Moon, the Giant's Lance. The gigantic citadel, putting the deep valley below into shadow.

Though the Bloody Gate, which guarded the highway to the citadel, and the Gate of the Moon which protected the single pathway that led up the side of the mountain, were both clear to see. This though was due to the hundreds of men that could be seen on the battlements, walls and parapets overlooking the gates and the trail.

The golden armour of the Golden Company standing out most noticeably, far more so than the duller uniforms worn by the other sellswords that Lysa Arryn had under her command, or the occasional bright spot of colour from the men which belonged the few traitorous Vale Lords that had joined Lysa.

Tearing his gaze away from the impregnable Eyrie, Tytan instead gazed around at the surrounding area. More than thirty thousand men, and camp followers were arrayed before him. Thousands of them, even as he watched, digging trenches, or driving stakes into the ground as they fortified the blockade which encircled the gigantic keep. That or they built up barricades made of spiked logs where the ground was too hard to be broken.

With even more of the men noticeably setting up the four camps that surrounded the Eyrie; each of which were positioned to the; north, south, east, and west. That or they set up the supply lines, or had started patrolling the area, both the no man's land between the isolated fortress and the encircling army, and the mountainous region behind the army.

Already Tytan had had to send out some of the younger Lords into the foothills in order to root out some of the hill tribes after several ambushes on his men. That said, rooting out the hill tribes would be useful to both pick up the moral of the men with a few easy victories, as well as handy as it would keep the younger, and more eager Lords in check.

Far behind the Eyrie, Tytan could both sense and see the sea, and the dozens of war galleys that were currently anchored up in the bay. The galleys having helped to blockade the Eyrie from both land and sea, even if their mangonels and ballistae couldn't shoot far enough to reach the Eyrie.

"Your Majesty," Lord Tarly spoke up behind Tytan, catching the King's attention as he shifted to the side so that he could look at Randyll. "The fortifications have almost been completed, and reports have started coming in that our soldiers have managed to drive off several Mountain Tribe warbands."

"Good," Tytan nodded turning to full face Randyll now, his gaze taking in his chosen men, and one Kingsguard, Jamie, all of whom were in full plate armour, and mounted on horses as they patiently waited for their King. Behind them Tytan also noticed a couple of armoured Tarly Guardsmen, and Randyll's youngest son, Dickon, who was squiring to one of the knights protecting Lord Tarly. "Once the trenches and barricades have been finished, I'll call the war council together so that we can plot out our strategy for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Randyll asked, a note of confusion entering his tone now, even as his weathered face twisted into a slight frown. "Do you mean we'll discuss how to set up the blockade, and the positons of the men? In which case I applaud your foresight you Majesty. I was in fact coming here to discuss with you the possibility of building temporary walls behind the trenches, as they would be easier for us to defend, and would allow some of the gathered Lords to send their troops home. After all once the walls have been constructed we would only need fifteen thousand men at the most to secure them while we starve them out!"

Tytan cocked an eyebrow at that. "You think we should starve them out then?"

Randyll frowned in confusion. "Was that not what you were planning? With the Golden Company here, and the legendary strength of the Eyrie's defences, I would have thought that starving them out was the only option?"

"It could work," Tytan nodded, a thoughtful look on his face as he turned away and looked at the massive fortress and easily defended path that led up to it. Trying to take the fortress by force would be suicide, especially with the hundreds of sellswords, Valemen, plus however many soldiers from the Golden Company that Lysa has hired, defending it. "The sellswords will either get desperate and hand Lysa Arryn over to us so that they can go free, or ransom her to us so they can make something from this venture. That or they might try to break the blockade once the majority of our army returns home."

"Such is the way of things, your Majesty." Randyll nodded, his expression easing now. "It is not the most palatable of options, but it is the least costly option, and the most likely to succeed. Though I will admit allowing the sellswords who sided with her to go home, safe and sound will rankle. That is if they do indeed, like you say, hand Lysa over to us once the precariousness of their positon is impressed upon them."

"Indeed, and like my Grandfather said, it would set a precedent." Tytan nodded, turning back to Randyll now. "It will say that people can get away with opposing the Iron Throne freely. Sure Lysa and the traitorous Vale Lords will be punished, and examples will be made of them. But the Golden Company and the other sellswords will go free, and will do so under knowledge that they opposed the Iron Throne and got away with it without cost."

"Again your Majesty, it isn't palatable, but it just is. Sellswords are scum, they sell their swords to the highest bidder. They have no honour, but despite that they serve a purpose. In the future they could be hired out to oppose the Crown again, or indeed they could be hired by the Crown to reinforce your own soldiers. Unfortunately it is just the way of things." Randyll nodded.

"Maybe," Tytan nodded, his expression stoic for all of a few moments, before his mouth twisted upwards into a smile. "But I don't like the idea of this group operating in Westeros, nor do I like the idea of them opposing me and then walking away without issue."

"Then," Randyll pushed, his eyebrows knitting together in a scowl now as he eyed Tytan cautiously. "Does that mean you intend to attack?"

"Yes," Tytan nodded simply. "Prudence would demand we starve them out. But I want to make a point."

"What, by killing off most of your army?!" Randyll demanded, his tone growing louder now.

"Some will die, I admit." Tytan nodded easily.

"Some?! Some will die?! The Eyrie is all but impregnable, and it's guarded by thousands of sellswords, including the Golden Company, perhaps the most skilled company of sellswords in Essos! Even with thirty thousand men we wouldn't be able to take the place by force!" Randyll shouted, all decorum lost now as he started at Tytan in horror. "You'll be sending your men to a slaughter!"

Tytan, instead of getting angry, just raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think me so mad?"

Randyll in response looked like he was desperately holding back his desire to say "yes".

"I know the strength of the Eyrie and of the forces guarding it. But I have a plan in mind. One which will make the impression I seek, and will put the fear of the gods into any who would dare oppose the Iron Throne!" Tytan replied bluntly, his green eyes boring into Randyll.

"Your Majesty," Randyll replied lowly, his expression still angry. "I don't think…!"

"Tarly!" Tytan cut him off, his gaze intense. "Do I appear a fool to you?"

"No, your Majesty, but this plan…" Randyll tried, desperately trying to impress on the King just what he thought of his plan to besiege the Eyrie.

"It will work." Tytan replied simply, before forging on. "I will crack the Eyrie open like an egg, and our soldiers will kill all those who reside inside. Of course that said, those who beg for mercy or surrender will be spared death. However, those who fight, they will all be killed to the last man."

"Yes, your Majesty, but the issue is, how are we going to besiege the Eyrie without taking massive losses?" Randyll pressed again, his tone one of strained patience.

Tytan in response just tilted his head, his expression cool. "I find your lack of faith disturbing."

"It's not faith in you that I lack, your Majesty, it's the facts of the matter that worry me." Randyll said, his tone much more controlled now, especially now he felt Tytan's cold green eyes on him. He, like many others in the Seven Kingdoms had heard about what had happened to those who opposed the young King. Just as he realised that this man, was far more component, and far more dangerous, than his father, Robert, ever was.

"I see, then maybe an example is what is needed to put your mind at ease." Tytan mused, his gaze remaining on Randyll, even as he raised his booted foot, and then stamped downwards with it.

In response to his actions the earth around him shook and the rock outcropping below him shattered, shards of fractured rock flying up into the air, even as rubble pour down the sides of the rock outcropping, passing on either side of Tytan and the now shocked Randyll.

"Your Majesty?" Randyll said shakily, his eyes flicking around at the broken rubble that even now had still yet to fully settle. He had heard that Tytan was blessed by the gods, and was capable of supernatural feats, but this was not what he had expected.

"Now imagine that Lord Tarly, but on a much grander scale." Tytan said softly, his gaze moving from the still frozen Randyll, to the mountain citadel in the distance, his mouth curving upwards into a smile of anticipation as he did so.

 **( - )**

 **(At the Wall)**

It was nearing twilight as Eddard Stark rode through the heavily reinforced gates of Castle Black, swathed in a black, fur cloak, his stony, grey eyes gazing around at his surroundings, his new home, forlornly as he did so.

This is not how he had foreseen his life going. Living out the rest of his days serving out his penance at the Wall, all for allowing Baelish and Varys to manipulate him into an act of Treason.

A sigh left Ned's mouth at that thought. It seemed so long ago now, but originally he had gone to King's Landing hoping to discover who had murdered Jon Arryn and the reason for his death. Yet in the end he had found himself caught up in a conspiracy and potential coup, all without knowing that he was just being used.

King's Landing truly was a nest of vipers.

Fortunately though he was alive, and his children were all alive, and his House was safe and not dishonoured. That was the only solace that Eddard could take in this whole series of unfortunate events.

"Eddard!" A familiar voice called out loudly, even as Ned dismounted from his horse, the other six dozen men who had accompanied him on the last leg up to the Wall, most of them criminals which had been gathered from all across the Seven Kingdoms, having all followed suit.

"Jeor!" Ned replied, his grim expression breaking off into a slight smile as he saw the familiar, if somewhat older and more weathered face, of Jeor Mormont, the former Lord of Bear Island and the current Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, plus an old family friend of House Stark, approaching him.

"By the gods, I never thought I would see the day that you would be here!" Jeor said loudly, ignoring the other recruits, even as some of the other brothers of the Night's Watch, those with seniority, started hustling them away.

"Nor I." Eddard replied simply his gaze surveying the busy courtyard, and the hundreds of men that manned the walls, trained, stabled horse or worked at a nearby smiths. The place was as busy as Winterfell, if not more so.

Then again maybe that wasn't that surprising considering that Castle Black was the main castle on the Wall, and boasted a garrison of nearly fifteen hundred men. With even more having been spread out amongst the other active forts on the Wall.

Jeor nodded at that, the large, beefy man rubbing his bearded chin with discomfort. "Yes…, well I've heard only rumours of what happened down there."

Ned nodded curtly at that. He suspected that Jeor knew far more about what had gone off in King's Landing than he said, still at the same time Ned was grateful that Jeor was exercising some restraint.

"Yes, well I'm up here now, for the long term." Eddard replied simply, pulling his fur cloak tighter around him, even as a chill wind blew through the courtyard, bringing with it some snow from the rooftops of nearby buildings.

"And the Night's Watch is all the better for it." Jeor nodded, clapping Ned on the shoulder even as he began to lead him away from where the other recruits were being hustled to, and instead into the nearby hall. "I tell you Ned, things aren't going well, not well at all!"

"Really? But the Watch looks better manned and equipped than I have ever seen it!" Ned replied in surprise, even as he allowed Jeor to guide him into the hall, and over to a nearby hearth, within which a fire crackled away merrily within the grate.

"Aye, we've got more men than ever, and funding from the Crown has picked up, enough so that most of the active keeps are now in much better shape than they have been in years!" Jeor nodded, settling himself down onto a bench near the fire, his breath still coming out misted, despite his proximity to the heat.

"But?" Ned asked, his grey eyes flicking over the hall, and then over at the stewards, who even as he watched were setting up some of the tables for the upcoming evening meal. Both Jon and Benjen should be around here somewhere, in fact he was surprised to have not seen them already.

"But things beyond the Wall are changing, and they're doing so dangerously fast." Jeor grumbled grimly, his expression turning dark as he did so.

"Oh, the Wildings causing more trouble than usual?" Ned asked, his brow ising as he heard the ominous tone of Jeor's voice.

"Wildlings?" Jeor asked gruffly, before he shook his head. "Aye, the savages are still around and causing trouble. More so than ever really, they've been flocking south, more of them than ever before. Every patrol we send out runs into some of them now, it's gotten to the point that the patrols I'm sending out have to be nearly a hundred men strong!"

Ned's eyes widened in surprise at that.

"Aye, it's where your brother, Benjen, and your Bastard, Jon, are right now! Those to, Clegane, and nearly five score others are all out on patrol as we speak. It's a pain, but a necessary one, especially with Mance Raydor, having already gathered together many of the different tribes. I tell you, he's probably only days away from calling himself the King Beyond the Wall!" Jeor spat, his tone turning downright venomous as he spoke of the turncoat brother of the Night's Watch.

"Another King Beyond the Wall? I had heard rumours, but still…" Ned muttered, sinking into his own seat now, a scowl on his own face at the thought of his younger brother and Jon being out there beyond the safety of the Wall. "How many Wildlings are we talking here?"

"From what Qhorin Halfhand has reported back, we're looking at him having tens of thousands already grouped together, if not more!" Jeor grumbled, a deep scowl on his face now.

Ned almost gaped as he heard the number, it was a truly colossal amount, especially for the Wildling's to gather together. Still, considering the Wall and the number of brother's manning it, he very much doubted that even many Wildlings would be enough to topple it.

"But no, it's not the Wildlings that's the problem!" Jeor then continue darkly, his gaze locking unerringly on Ned now.

"Oh?" Ned asked, curious now as to just what was making the situation so dire, if it were not the tens of thousands of Wildlings massing on the other side of the Wall.

"There are other, darker things beyond the Wall." Jeor muttered, his voice lowering now, even as he sent the nearby stewards a searching look. After which he heaved himself to his feet and gestured for Ned to follow him, even as he started wending his way towards his quarters. "I'll tell you in private, Ned, as a former Warden of the North, and Lord Stark, it's only fitting. Especially since, in a couple of years, you'll probably be Lord Commander."

"Lord Commander?" Ned asked, in surprise, even as he followed Jeor out of the hall and through the castle's dark corridors.

"Of course, with your pedigree, and the experience you have in command, there are few others who are more capable and more worthy to take up the role. Give it a year or two for you to settle in and get to know the place, and we can make it official." Jeor replied bluntly, his tone one of a man that had already decided exactly what he was going to do.

Ned didn't know what to say in response to that, nor did he have the opportunity to think of something as by then they had arrived at Jeor's office. With the larger, bear of a man shouldering his way inside, and taking a seat, even as he gestured for Ned to do the same.

"But that is something for a later time." Jeor then continued, using a poker to stir up the glowing coals in his fireplace, before he then chucked a couple of dry logs on top. "For now we are talking about the threat beyond the Wall!"

"The one which is not because of the amassing Wildling horde?" Ned queried.

"No, as I said before, there is something else out there." Jeor said darkly, before shifting forwards. "Now listen, Ned, you know me, I'm no fool of a man, nor some old nursemaid. So believe me when I tell you, there is something out there. Something dark, and cold, and unnatural."

Ned frowned as he heard that, even as he saw the both forbidding and earnest expression Jeor's face. "What is it?"

"The White Walkers," Jeor said bluntly, his expression grim. "The dead, they no longer rest easily. If we don't burn the bodies straight away they start getting up regardless of their wounds, only they are hardier than before, and feel no pain. On top of which their eyes, they are now bluer than the sky."

"White Walkers?" Ned asked, his tone strained as he attempted to keep away the note of disbelief from it. He had seen the magic that Tytan was capable of, and had seen the King's dragon. If anyone should keep an open mind it should be him.

"Aye," Jeor nodded grimly. "I didn't believe it at first either when my scouts first started telling me of the dead rising up, and the winter winds becoming stronger and fiercer than ever before. But then I saw the dead rise for myself, young Jon and his friends even managed to wrangle one when they were out on patrol, and bring them back into Castle Black as proof."

Ned frowned at that. "And you know for sure he was dead?"

"No man can live with his guts frozen and hanging out of his chest, nor without his jaw. The Wildling they brought in had been killed in a raid, only like the others, this one had risen up to attack them anew. Forty three brothers we lost that day because of those fuckers!" Jeor hissed, his expression turning hateful.

Ned sat back in his chair at this, his eyes wide. "How did they kill them?"

"With fire, it is the only way we know of!" Jeor shrugged, moodily poking his own fire with his poker again as he did so.

"Do you think that this is why the Wildlings are coming south, and gathering in such numbers?" Ned asked, linking up the two issues in his mind.

Jeor nodded in response. "From the few we've managed to capture and interrogate, the Walkers have been active for years, gaining in power every year that passed. As far as I can tell they've been active for more than eighteen years, slowly but surely growing in strength and moving south, slowly amassing their army of the dead as they did so. Only with things being as remote as they are out there, it took the Wildlings a while to discover what was going on."

"What do you mean?" Ned asked, a slight frown on his face now.

"Those Wildlings just outside the Walls, Ned, the ones with Mance. As far as we can tell, they're the last of the Wildlings beyond the Wall. The rest have all been massacred and are no doubt shambling south as we speak." Jeor grunted, his expression once again grim. "Of course we only really discovered what was happening a few months back. Apparently something has reinvigorated the bastards, they're moving faster than ever! Soon enough we'll have to stop sending patrols out because of the danger!"

Ned nodded at that, unable to really say anything as he digested what Jeor was saying. This had apparently been going on for years, all under the nose of the Night's Watch, without them being aware of it. And then for some reason the Walkers, if this truly was them, started gaining strength faster than ever just a few months ago. Why?

"The King?" Ned said suddenly, looking up at Jeor now. "Does he know? Has he been told of the impending danger?"

"No, not that I know of anyway." Jeor shook his head. "I need evidence first Ned, before I, or one of my men head south to tell him in person. You know what those southerners are like after all! They have no faith anymore, they don't believe unless they see. I sent reports south before, when I first saw one of those Wights, I doubt any of them even made it to the King's hands!"

"So what are you going to do?" Ned asked, his brow furrowed as he looked questioningly at Jeor. This was a lot of information to digest, with it having been delivered in a very short amount of time.

"We're heading out on one more patrol when the current one gets back. The largest one yet, and whilst we're on it we are going to capture one of the Wights and bring them south so we can show the King absolute proof of the threat!" Jeor grunted, shifting about in his seat now as he gave Ned a stead look. "And you'll be coming with us!"

Ned nodded at that, still trying to wrap his mind about everything he had heard as he did so.

 **( - )**

 **AN: So what did you all think? Honestly this chapter was just getting me back into the story and setting out some big events which will be going off in the next few chapters. Both in the north, the south, the east, pretty much everywhere but the west. Suffice to say things are moving fast in all areas, and yes this does involve me touching on several different points of view in order to touch on or outline some of the many plots and story lines that are going on. Otherwise it would just confuse matters.**

 **That said I am quite pleased I didn't write that Winterfell accidentally burnt down in a freak accident involving a poorly maintained fireplace, and the unfortunate deaths of most of the Stark children and their mother. After all killing of so many characters without a reason, other than my own satisfaction, probably wouldn't' have been very good for the plot. Similarly having Jon Snow choke on a fish bone and die, and Tyrian being hit by a falling brick and die, wouldn't have been all that good either.**

 **Again I feel I needed to wait a while, before I wrote in order to not pettily kill of characters I dislike because of their canon storylines. Even if some of the anticlimactic and embarrassing deaths I thought up would have been amusing, if only because of the reaction they would get.**

 **But no, the next update won't take as long. So now I am back and working at it again. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and leave a review! If you have any questions please feel free to PM me.**

 **Thanks a lot of reading.**

 **Greed720.**


	23. Chapter 23

**AN: Hey all, so it has been a while, sort of. Well not really that long. Still, it's been some time, and here is the next chapter. Thanks for continuing to read and support the story, I really appreciate it, and thank to those who messaged me and pushed me to update. I'll admit I do need a push and a prompt sometimes, otherwise I get distracted.**

 **All that said, I hope you all enjoy the chapter and leave a review at the end. A part of me suspects that this might prove a divisive chapter. Though I do hope that you all enjoy it. Still, criticism, as long as it is useful and explained and constructive, is welcome.**

 **Also on top of that, please do feel free to PM me if you have anything you want to ask or request.**

 **Thanks for reading, and please do check out my other stories!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or Percy Jackson.**

 **( - )**

 **(Last Time)**

 _"_ _So what are you going to do?" Ned asked, his brow furrowed as he looked questioningly at Jeor. This was a lot of information to digest, with it having been delivered in a very short amount of time._

 _"_ _We're heading out on one more patrol when the current one gets back. The largest one yet, and whilst we're on it we are going to capture one of the Wights and bring them south so we can show the King absolute proof of the threat!" Jeor grunted, shifting about in his seat now as he gave Ned a stead look. "And you'll be coming with us!"_

 _Ned nodded at that, still trying to wrap his mind about everything he had heard as he did so._

 **( - )**

 **Chapter 23**

 **( - )**

 **(With Tytan)**

The mid-morning sun shone down upon him as he walked forward, the rays of light bouncing off of his gleaming, silver plate armour, and mail hauberk.

Raising his helmeted head, his sea green eyes peered out of the thin slits in the visor of his helmet as he looked up at the clear blue sky far above him.

He was ready.

He was clad in his castle forged plate armour, his Valyrian steel sword belted and sheathed on his hip, and a black, gold embroidered cloak flowing from his armour shoulders, and whipping about behind him in the breeze.

His armour was truly a work of art. His right pauldron had been shaped to looking like a roaring lion's head and was accented with gold. His left pauldron meanwhile had been crafted into a snarling stag's head and had been embossed with silver. His breastplate had a prancing, crowned stag on it, inlaid in gold. Then finally, to finish off his ensemble, his helm had been crafted to have the likeness of his own face on the visor, and a pair of sharp antlers protruding from it and jabbing upwards at the sky.

He looked like a King.

Letting out a breath, mist exploded forth from his mouth, streaming out of the gaps in his helmet.

Glancing back, he could see the giant army arrayed behind him.

His army.

Twenty thousand men, all of them stood waiting in units, and wearing armour and mail; nobles, knights, heavy cavalry, light cavalry, longbow men, pikemen, crossbowmen, halberd wielding infantry, men at arms.

There were tens of thousands of them spread out behind him. All of them standing patiently in orderly file; their captains and Lords watching over them, as they, and the rest of the army looked to him, their King, for the signal to attack.

Turning to face forward again, he looked up at the Eyrie and its only entrance, the Bloody Gate, in front of him. At the sight of it he let out another deep breath.

This was it, he had assembled his army, twenty thousand at his back, and ten thousand waiting half a mile away as reinforcements. Furthermore he knew he had an entire fleet and thousands of marines awaiting his word too, half a mile out and in the bay. The captains standing on deck waiting and listening for the horns and battle drums to sound.

Immediately behind him, his personal guard waited, all of them, including his Uncle Jamie, wearing plate armour of the own, their hands clasping their weapons tensely as they, like the rest of his army, awaited his command.

Rolling his shoulders, he took his first step forward.

His armour was heavy and warm. For a normal person the sheer weight would restrict their movements and slow them down.

For him however, the weight meant little.

He might have been technically born a human in this world, but spiritually he was a Demigod, and that was something that, with his current incarnation, would never change.

Gods didn't have DNA, their powers were not biological they were spiritual and were thus enshrined within a person's soul.

Had Percy bathed in the River Lethe before he had been reborn, his spirt, his soul would have been cleansed and made fresh and new. He would have been reborn, like so many millions before him, with no memories, and no powers.

That hadn't been the case though.

Instead of bathing in the River Lethe, he had hurled himself into the Sea of Chaos.

Tightening his hands into fists, he let out another breath.

"Your Majesty," Tywin Lannister prompted from a dozen metres behind him, the aged Lion of Casterly Rock sitting astride a large, armour black destrier along with a number of other High Lords, including Randyl Tarly.

His squire, and Percy's brother, Joffrey, sitting on a horse behind their grandfather wearing his own armour. The other Lord's guards, retainers and squires all waiting alongside the sneer teen. The sight of him reminded Percy, he hadn't spoken to the brat since he arrived at the camp. What did that say about him?

Did not loyalty; familial loyalty and his loyalty define him as a person?

It was his fatal flaw.

What did it say then the fact that he had barely paid Joffrey, or his other brother Tommen, or his sister Myrcella, any mind for a long time. Did that mean he was different now? Had his years in Tartarus and time here in Westeros changed him so much, that the loyalty to his friends that had once defined him, defined him no more?

Percy shook his head at that thought, he was getting distracted.

"I know," said Percy softly in response to his grandfather a few moments later. Shifting about as he took another few steps forward, before he looked back and raised his visor, revealing his sharp features, and the grim expression on his face as he observed the mounted and waiting Lords, and his personal guard. "Ready yourselves."

"Ready ourselves for what?" Tywin replied with a hint of impatience, his brow furrowing as he kept a tight hold on his horse's reins, keeping it under control as it shifted about nervously beneath him.

From where he was stood, Percy could hear the reason for the horse's complaints. The plate armour Tywin was wearing, along with the man himself, was a considerable weight, especially for prolonged periods of times.

Ignoring this, and his grandfather's words, Percy instead turned back to the Bloody Gate. His intense green eyes surveyed the gorge within which the fortified gate sat, as well as the numerous towers, battlements and batteries that had been setup by the defenders.

Truly he could understand why this gate was called, the Bloody Gate. It would cost the lives thousands of men to take the gate by force, all while under the constant assault of the defenders.

Behind the gate, and looming in the distance, he could see the palatial, fortified citadel, the Eyrie, and the colourful banners and tabards and uniforms of those defending it as they lined the defences in front of him, and the narrow pathway that led all the way up to the citadel far above.

So far above them in fact; that the trebuchets, mangonels and ballistae that they had brought with them and set up behind the main battle lines didn't have a chance of reaching their target.

A tight smile spread across his face at that thought, even as he heard the waiting Lords behind him start to mutter amongst one another, and the waiting troops shift about as their nervousness and impatience began to show.

He could understand their nerves.

Fortunately though, they did not have to wait for long.

Taking another deep breath, Percy drew on the power within him. His skin tingling even as he felt the tell-tale pulling feeling in his gut.

This was it, it was time to show the world what he, Percy Jackson, or as they knew him here, Tytan Baratheon, was capable of!

It was time to change the world as they knew it, and show them just what a Demigod son of Poseidon, the Lord of the Sea, the Earth shaker, was able to do!

Pulling power that dwelled just beneath the surface of his skin, Percy raised his foot and then slammed it down on the rocky ground below him, his sea green eyes locked on the Bloody Gate, and the Eyrie, even as he released the pent up energy and directed it at his targets.

In response to his actions, a shudder went across the earth all around him. A shockwave that sent cracks and fissures through the ground immediately around him. The shockwave not just flowing through the earth, but through the air as well, the sheer force of it staggering the entire army behind him, and panicking the horses.

The shockwave from that single step, having been felt by everyone for miles around.

For the marines and sailors on the water, nearly half a mile off of the coast, the force of the shockwave caused their ships, a fleet of over fifty, to suddenly begin to rock about madly in the suddenly rough waters, even as the sea itself became wilder and more ferocious. Waves lapping over the sides of their vessels causing many of those on board to latch onto any solid object they could reach in order to steady themselves, the men calling out in shock, panic and confusion as they did so.

Percy though did pay the reactions of those behind him any mind, instead he focused entirely on what was ahead of him, even as he drew on the magic rich earth beneath him and his own might.

Letting out another breath, Percy took a another steep forwards only now he raised his armoured arms, and then brought his gauntleted hands down and slammed them into the ground below him with an explosion of force.

Looking up, Percy watched on with cold resolve, the shouts of shock from those behind him and the screams of panic from those in front of him falling on deaf ears as he instead focused on what he had just wrought.

Before his very eyes he could see the gorge within which the Blood Gate was based collapsing in on itself, massive rocks falling down on the waiting defender, even as faces of the nearby mountains crumbled, broke apart and began to slide down and crush those below.

Narrowing his eyes, Percy clenched his hands into fists, shattering the rock beneath him.

In response great spires of rock erupted forth from the earth, even as the mountains in front of him continued to crumble and collapse. A cloud of dust forming, even as the Bloody Gate, and the gorge within which it lay, was buried in a mass of rubble and rock.

Behind the Bloody Gate, Percy watched on sadly as he saw the narrow mountain pass that lead up to the Eyrie started to collapse in many different places; rivers of scree and rocks flowing down the mountain like water and swamping the mountain pass, washing away the battlements and defenders with brutal efficiency as it did so.

Ignoring the ground below him as it continued to quake as wave after wave of seismic energy flowed through him and into the earth, causing a powerful localised earthquake in front of him, Percy continued to stare resolutely up at the Eyrie.

His lips set in a firm line as he saw the mountain continue to crumble; giant rents and fissures forming on its face, even as hundreds, if not thousands, of tonnes of rock and rubble fell to earth.

From where he was stood he could see the cracks growing and expanding, even as the walls of the Eyrie stated to crack and collapse as well, whole swathes of the citadel sliding off the mountain peak and crashing down to the earth below. A mighty fortress that must have taken countless years to build, destroyed in a matter of minutes.

How many thousands had just died, how many innocents?

Not all those that had resided in the Eyrie had been guilty; they hadn't all been mercenaries, or sellswords, or traitorous nobles. There must have been servants just doing their jobs and trying to make a life for themselves, and professional, and peasant, soldiers just doing their duty for their feudal Lord, children innocently playing, and families sheltering from the Crown's retribution.

Pushing his feelings of guilt down, Percy instead closed his eyes and continued to release waves of seismic energy into the ground, focusing it into the area in front of him as he created an incredibly intense, localised earthquake, a bead of sweat running down his face as he attempted to mitigate the backlash the rest of the surrounding area would face, even as the mountain range within which the Eyrie sat collapsed in on itself.

 **( - )**

 **(With Tywin)**

Keeping a tight grip on his panicking horse, Tywin Lannister could only look on in shock and awe as, Tytan, his grandson shook the very earth.

He had never been a particularly religious man. Sure he had believed in the Seven Divines and paid tribute when necessary. But it had been a cynical faith, one he only really kept up because it was expected of him. Personally he had always viewed himself as a realist, and gods and magic as fanciful nonsense that was only useful as it allowed the Lords and nobles to use it to control the peasantry and the lowborn rabble.

Sure when he had first seen what it eldest grandson, Tytan, was capable of he had been shocked, awed even. But they had been fanciful parlour tricks, nothing more. The kind of things that were entertaining but which had no practical use.

Blessed by the Seven, that was the propaganda his daughter had used to explain away her son's abilities and crush any accusations of heresy.

He had thought it contrived nonsense of course, and had instead put the boy's abilities down to his bloodline, and the ancient Valyrian blood in his veins; blood that nearly every noble in the south had after years of interbreeding, breeding true.

He had put it out of his mind at the time, and had only begun to ponder again on what it meant, and what he was capable of, when Tytan had gotten his hands on a dragon egg and hatched, Ozymandias.

An odd, foreign name for a dragon, but one that thankfully didn't harken back to the names the Targaryen's had given their dragons. He had been pleased that such a connection was not being encouraged; after all the actions of the Mad King, Aerys Targaryen, had forever tainted that fallen House.

Still, despite everything he had previously thought, Tywin couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight in front of him. His mouth opening and closing as he, for the first time in his life, found himself lost for words.

The Eyrie, the ancient and impregnable seat of House Arryn, was collapsing in on itself.

His grandson, through the force of his will and the power born of his blood alone, was destroying one of the most iconic fortresses in the known world.

In his mind he could only liken it to his complete and utter decimation of House Reyne and the destruction of Castermere.

No, this was on a grander scale.

This was more along the lines of the destruction of Harrenhal.

Just like how Aegon the Conqueror had bathed the mightiest fortress in the land in fire, killing all inside and reducing the once magnificent castle to a burnt ruin, forever carving his name and deeds in history. So too was Tytan Baratheon, of both Houses Baratheon and Lannister doing the same.

This, this was Tytan's legacy. This was his message to all those that would oppose him.

Complete and utter ruin!

A cold smile spread across Tywin's face at that thought, even as he got his horse under control, his focus entirely on the armoured Tytan as he stood up, his black cloak billowing about him in the breeze. The still collapsing mountains behind him acting as a backdrop as he turned to face his army.

It was magnificent!

 **( - )**

 **(With Randyll Tarly)**

For perhaps the first time in his life Randyll Tarly felt true fear, even as the earth stopped shaking and the mighty warrior King, Tytan Baratheon, turned to look at his assembled forces.

Tytan had showed him what he had in mind. Randyll had confronted the young King, and asked about the strategy; looking back on it his actions had bordered on rudeness as he spoke to the King like he was a child, a novice to the ways of war.

He had doubted his King.

Wrenching the reins of his horse harshly to get it under control, Randyll couldn't look away from the King, even as he raised a gauntleted arm and gestured behind him at the dust covered scene of devastation.

"Forward all forces! Keep the line steady and the approach slow!" Tytan's voice boomed out, his words sounding out incredibly loudly, despite the sounds of falling rubble and screaming echoing out behind him. "Crush any who still resist! Dig out and help, or capture any who don't resist but still live!"

A silence followed his words.

Randyll could see the apprehension on the faces of the other Lords, and could feel the fear and nervousness sweeping through the ranks of soldiers behind him.

Never before had anyone seen destruction or power on this scale before. It was beyond human. In fact it teetered on the realms of the gods.

Already Randyll could picture the stories and songs that would be sung of this day, the fall of the Eyrie, and the moment King Tytan the first of his name, solidified his position as the most powerful King to have ever lived.

This was a day that would forever go down in the annals of history.

Behind him Randyll could hear captains shouting out orders, and the great clamour that came with hundreds of armoured men moving.

Turning in his saddle Randyll was not surprised to see that the first ones to respond to the King's orders were his Goldcloaks. Thousands of mail clad men, with gold cloaks were moving forward in formation, flooding passed the other units and the Lords as they marched towards the scene of devastation.

The King's personal army, one of the largest in the land.

When Randyll had first heard of what the King was doing; requisitioning Harrenhal, and using it to recruit and train thousands of new Goldcloaks, he had scoffed.

The city watch had always been a joke to the professional soldiers of the Seven Kingdoms. They were all pomp and no power. They were only good for beating up drunks, they had no place on the field of battle.

That was what he had thought.

Now though, as the thousands of Goldcloaks swept passed him, and flowed around the King and his personal guard, Randyll couldn't help but be awed by their resolve, their loyalty, their sense of duty!

These men had just seen a mountain being levelled due the action of a single man. Despite this though, they did not hesitate to obey that very man's orders, in fact they leapt to it with almost fanatic loyalty. Rank after rank of armoured soldiers marching across the shattered ground and towards the broken mountains, in spite of the dust still stymieing their vision.

It was commendable.

"Lord Tarly, you heard my orders did you not!?" Tytan's voice sounded out again. Randyll's eyes flicking back to the King at the sound of his voice, even as he saw the man's personal guard surrounding him, his Uncle helping the King onto a horse, even as Tytan looked over at him.

"Yes, your Majesty. I apologise for my slow response." Randyll replied at once, gripping his reins tightly as he did so. "I was just surprised by what happened, I'll see to the men at once!"

"Good see my orders through, Lord Tarly, and you too, Lord Lannister." Tytan replied, sitting astride his warhorse now, his personal guard all mounting up around him. "Make sure there is order, and that our causalities are minimal. I believe I got most of them, but not all."

"Yes, my King," Randyll replied, the other Lords around him echoing the sentiment, even as some of them turned and started barking orders to their waiting men.

They had come here expecting harsh and brutal fight. Instead all they had to do was clean up the remaining resistance, those that had survived the King's fury.

 **( - )**

 **(With Tytan, a few minutes earlier)**

Slumping slightly, Percy nearly collapsed.

In fact, were it not for Jamie steadying him, and Luke, Matthias and Ubba bringing over the horses and helping him mount, he might have fallen.

Beneath his helmet his face was soaked in sweat, and his limbs were all burning.

He was exhausted. In fact he was so fatigued that he doubted he could even lift a sword, let along swing one.

"Are you alright, Tytan?" Jamie muttered, as he mounted his own horse.

"Tytan?" Percy muttered in response, before blinking. "I mean yes, I'm fine. Just a little tired, it took more out of me than I thought it would." Tytan continued, shifting about in his saddle and trying to make himself comfortable. His armour suddenly felt three times heavier than it had done before.

"Just a little tired, he levels a mountain and he's only a little tired." Matthias spoke up sarcastically, riding over to Tytan and up alongside him, offering him some support, even as Tytan sagged slightly in his saddle.

"I might have over done it," Tytan replied tiredly. A slight smile on his face as he saw his personal guard, his friends, form up protectively around him. "Still, at least this way our own forces will not suffer considerable losses, that and it makes a point."

"Aye it makes a point, 'fuck with me and I'll bring your own castle down on your head'!" Luke chuckled.

"Well it is message that most, if not all will, take to heart." Jamie nodded, moving his horse up to and alongside his nephews even as the Goldcloaks continued to flood around them, and they themselves approached the still staring Lords.

"I hope so, I hope this is the last time we have to fight for a while. Now should be a time of consolidation, not war." Tytan replied softly, his face twisting into an expression of regret at the thought of all those who had just died, even as internally he knew his actions had saved the lives of thousands of loyal soldiers.

War was a terrible thing.

Looking forward, Tytan quickly noted how none of the Lords had followed his orders, instead they all continued to watch him; expressions of fear, awe, surprise and concern on their faces as he slowly approached them.

"Lord Tarly, you heard my orders did you not!?" Tytan called out, his gaze shifting to the balding, Lord from the Reach, beside whom sat the mounted, and portly Lord Tyrell, his fat, future father in law looking practically cationic as he stared at Tytan in fearful awe.

"Yes, your Majesty. I apologise for my slow response." Randyll replied at once, an inscrutable expression sliding off his face as he instead gave him a short, dutiful bow. "I was just surprised by what happened, I'll see to the men at once!"

"Good see my orders through, Lord Tarly, and you too, Lord Lannister." Tytan nodded, waving a hand to the two Lords, not missing the sharp, interested expression on his grandfather's face, nor the scared shitless expression on his brother's pale, waxy face as he did so.

"Yes, My King," Lord Tarly said at once, before he turned and started shouting order to his men and the men of the Reach.

As he did this, the other High Lords jumped into action too, most of them moving away to call out orders to their subordinates and mobilise their own small forces.

"An impressive display, grandson." Tywin said mildly, as Tytan and his guard came level with him. The aged Lion of Casterly Rock not moving from where he had previously been as he instead waited for Tytan, his retainers acting in his stead as they mobilised his forces for him. The thunder of armoured feet sounding out all around them as thousands of men followed the Goldcloaks' lead. "Consider me surprised, I had never realised you were capable of wielding such power…"

"A wise King knows what he should share, and what he should keep to himself, Lord Tywin." Tytan nodded curtly. He wasn't all that fond of his grandfather, and did not appreciate his attempts to ingratiate himself, and remind Tytan of their relationship.

"Indeed," Tywin said softly, watching Tytan carefully as he urged his mount onwards, his guards following after him.

Noticeably Tywin didn't even give his eldest son a second glance, instead his attention was on Tytan to the exclusion of all else.

"Brother," Tytan said softly, his helmeted head shifting over to look at the still terrified Joffrey. "I hope you have been doing well under Lord Tywin's tutelage, and learned both restraint, and wisdom."

"T-Tytan…" Joffrey stuttered out nervously.

"He's doing well, but there is still a lot he needs to learn before he can become worthy of being the next Lord of Casterly Rock." Tywin cut in smoothly.

"I see," Tytan nodded, a number of the other High Lords joining Tytan now too as their forces all mobilised, whilst he himself headed back to the camp. "Come, let us gather in the command tent; I have some good Dornish wine waiting!"

Those around him murmured their assent, or their enthusiasm. More of them joining his growing entourage as he rode through the respectfully silent and bowing reinforcements and into the camp.

The Capital of the Vale had fallen, and he needed rest.

He didn't want any of these vipers to realise just how weary he truly was. It would take away from the mystique of his display, and it would be a show of weakness he couldn't afford them seeing.

No, for now he would rest, and entertain the nobles. Putting on an act of nonchalance as he recovered his energy.

Besides, he trusted the captains and commanders he had put in charge of this forces. They knew what to do. On top of which all that remained to do in the Vale was to secure the Kingdom, purge the few remaining rebels, and then place a new House as Warden. He had time to rest up for a while.

 **( - )**

 **(In Dorne, with Ivar)**

Sitting down in the feasting hall, in the Tower of Joy, Ivar absentmindedly played about with the goblet of wine in his hands. His cold blue eyes surveying the rowdy crowd present.

The hall was pretty packed, not only were his men and Viserys here, but so too was Prince Oberyn and several Dornish nobles, all of whom were drinking, eating and laughing with a number of minor Lords and nobles from the Riverlands, Westerlands, Crownlands and Stormlands.

There were around one hundred and fifty odd men in the room in total, one hundred of whom were nobles and their entourages. All of whom were drinking and laughing as they feasted and toasted one another.

They were all letting off steam, after a week of nothing but discussions and plotting as these men conspired against the King and the Kingdom, all of them eventually agreeing to support Viserys Targaryen and planning out a coup against the current King. Hence the celebrations.

Oberyn Martel himself, the brother of Doran Martel, the Prince of Dorne was amongst their number. He had been the hardest to convince, but eventually, after several days of debate and offers, he had agreed to support the cause, and had even obliquely stated that he would depose his brother to do so and take on the mantel of ruler himself in order to ensure the full support of Dorne.

All in all their mission had been a success. In total they had managed to gather twenty nobles of differing ranks from the Westerlands, Stormlands, Crownlands, Riverlands and Dorne; all of whom either had a grudge against the Crown, loyalty to House Targaryen, or something to gain from Tytan's fall.

Continuing to play about with his goblet, Ivar looked up at the roof, his cold blue eyes locking onto a golden eyed hawk that was perched amongst the dusty rafters, seemingly watching the partying nobles and soldiers below.

A slight smile played around his lips as he surveyed the watching bird for a moment, before without a word he looked away and over at the crowd of feasting men.

"Ivar!" The whiny, nasally voice of Viserys sounded out all of a sudden. The gaunt, silver haired man waltzing over to him through the crowd. The man's usually pale cheeks flushed with alcohol, and his dour, petulant expression replaced with a look of drunken joy. "Why are you just sitting around, you should be celebrating!"

"I'll only celebrate when the job is done…, my King." Ivar replied, pasting a smile across his face as he gave a short bow to the arrogant Targaryen.

"Who cares about that, you love drinking don't you! Come drink with me, as your King I command it!" Viserys shouted joyfully, his voice catching the attention of the other men in the hall.

Watching Viserys closely, Ivar smiled and raised his goblet.

In response the gathered men cheered and laughed, a few whores that had been brought along joining in as they started shrieking with laughter.

"To a job well done!" Ivar said loudly, pushing himself up to his feet now, much to the enthusiasm of the very drunk men.

Around the room, the rest of Ivar's men got up too, all of them noticeably more sober than the others feasters.

From where he was sat at a nearby table, a half-naked girl on his lap, a very drunk Oberyn tensed up slightly, his glazed, dark eyes flicking backwards and forwards as if he could suddenly sense that something bad was going to happen.

"Ha ha, yes Ivar, to glory of House Targaryen, and the fall of Tytan fucking Baratheon, to Blood and Fire!" Viserys laughed, his wine sloshing about in his goblet, even as his supporters, those he had gathered after many months of lobbying, bribing, persuading and hobnobbing, laughed along with him. All of them drunk on not just alcohol, but on the success and wealth that they were sure to claim for themselves in the future.

Ivar smiled at that, and raised his goblet higher in the air, receiving a roar of enthusiasm as he did so.

Only for him to drop it moments later, wine sloshing about before it spattered across the floor, followed by the silver goblet clattering loudly across the stone floor.

"Ivar…" Viserys began drunkenly, a mixture of amusement, anger and confusion on his face as he looked at the blonde Valeman, only for his violet eyes to suddenly widen as he saw Ivar's hand grab onto the handle of his sword, before with nary a sound or a word he drew it and slashed Viserys across the face in a single fluid motion.

At once chaos and confusion reigned as those loyal to Ivar unsheathed their swords and daggers and fell upon those loyal to either themselves or the Targaryen's. The sober and armed attackers rapidly gaining the advantage, despite being outnumbered two to one.

Screams and shouts soon filled the hall as Ivar bulled forward and slashed down another man, a noble from the Crownlands. Blood spraying across the room as the blade nearly decapitated him, spattering Ivar's face and clothes.

The blonde warrior ignored this though as he instead continued to hack and slash at anybody in reach, even as he advanced on the now standing, but still drunk, Dornish Prince.

In response Oberyn, despite being drunk, had pulled a pair of twin daggers from somewhere on his person and was moving to meet Ivar. The chaos and confusion going on all around him, not deterring the Dornish man as he slashed one of his attackers across the face, before ramming a knife into his chest.

"Traitor!" Oberyn roared, drunken anger filling his voice as he shoved the dying man away and then charged at Ivar, bulling forward and attempting to get in close so as to give himself the advantage and stop Ivar from bringing his longsword to bear.

Ivar though was ready. With a bellow he punched a nearby man in the face with the hilt of his sword, breaking his nose and jaw, and then grabbed and flung him into the oncoming Dornish Prince's path, making Oberyn dodge to avoid them living, screaming projectile.

Following this up, Ivar swung his sword around and slashed Oberyn across his arm, his blade biting deep into the Dornish Prince's flesh, almost to the bone, and forcing him to drop one of his daggers.

"You call me the traitor, you're the one who turned on your King!" Ivar shouted back, delivering kick to Oberyn's chest, launching the injured man back and over a nearby table.

All around them the slaughter continued as Ivar's men ploughed into the remaining plotters with brutal, remorseless efficiency.

The plan had originally supposed to have been done using fire. Ivar originally had wanted to get all of them drunk and then set a fire in the hall and bolt the doors, locking the occupants inside. After which Ivar and his men would have waited outside, ready to kill anyone who managed to escape.

That plan however had been scuppered after Ivar had surveyed the tower. The stone walls would not burn, and with there being a stone floor too and little in the way of furniture save a few tables and benches, there was not enough to set a big enough fire to kill the occupants. On top of which with their being a hundred of them, it was unlikely that they would be able to keep them all in the hall.

Hence why the plan had changed.

Stepping forwards Ivar smacked away Oberyn's remaining dagger with his sword, and stamped on his manhood with his booted foot.

Crying out in agony, Oberyn, a renowned soldier in his own right, couldn't help but clutch his manhood, even as his arm continued to bleed all over the stone slabs beneath him, and his men and fellow conspirators continued to die.

"Y-You tricked me!" Oberyn spat out accusingly.

"I tempted you, it's your own fault for being stupid enough to agree to treason." Ivar spat, before without another word he thrust his sword forward and through Oberyn's throat. Blood spraying out of the wound, and the Prince's dark eyes glaring accusingly at Ivar, even as with a gurgling sound he died.

"Finish off the rest of the traitors!" Ivar shouted to his men, even as they continued to hack and slash at the still living conspirators.

Turning around, Ivar didn't spare the dead Viper of Dorne even a passing glance as he instead walked over to where Viserys, still living, was trying to clamber to his feet, one of his hands clutching his bloody face.

"Ivar!" Viserys spat, his voice filled with pain as he stared up at the blonde man in horror. "Why?"

"For my King of course, and by King, I mean, King Tytan." Ivar said simply, his gaze devoid of any guilt or regret. "And because I think you're a little shit!"

"It was a trap…" Viserys muttered to himself softly, his hand still clasping at his ruined face.

"Yes, you were little more than bait; bait that I used to gather those still loyal to your House, or those who could be persuaded to betray the King. That's all you were boy, bait, a prize that I could use to get those men to gather up and isolate themselves in order to maintain the secrecy of their conspiracy." Ivar replied blandly, the tip of his sword at Viserys's neck now. "It was my idea, but Tytan wholeheartedly supported it. Why just execute you, when we can use you to rout out traitors?"

"You'll burn for this…" Viserys hissed.

"I doubt it." Ivar replied blandly. Behind him he could hear the sounds of slaughter fading away as his men continued their grisly work.

To aid with the plan they had drugged the wine.

This was not a battle or an ambush, it was premeditated, and well planned out massacre.

"So what now, back to prison?" Viserys asked hollowly.

He no longer sounded afraid, but instead just resigned.

"No." Said Ivar. "You're now more useful dead. We'll need to create a story that benefits us, and what better story than the noble Prince Oberyn finding out about and attempting to stop a coup, only for him to die in the attempt, killed by the cowardly, Targaryen Prince, Viserys…."

"You think anyone will believe that?" Viserys muttered, meeting Ivar's gaze, his face a bloody ruin.

"They'll believe what we tell them," Ivar shrugged, before, without another word he thrust his sword forward and through Viserys's throat, killing him in an instant.

"Lord Ivar, the remaining traitors are dead." One of his men said, marching over to Ivar with a bloodied blade.

"Good, now it's time to arrange the corpses and send a missive in Oberyn's name to his brother requesting reinforcement to stop a terrible coup against the Crown." Ivar said softly, pulling his sword out of Viserys's throat with a wet, squelching sound.

Overhead, the golden eyed hawk let loose a single cry, before without another sound it took to the skies and flew out of one of the windows and off in the direction of the Vale.

 **( - )**

 **AN: So what do you all think? Plenty of action and things happening, eh!**

 **That said just to clarify, I am aware that in the first section I use the name Percy not Tytan, I did that for a reason. It was not a mistake!**

 **Other than that I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. It all but concludes two plot lines, though there will be some clearing and a few other bits and pieces to cover in the next few chapters, but for the most part it is done! From here I will probably start playing around with more character interactions and development in King's Landing and Westeros. That said things are still going off in the far north, and the east plenty of exciting stuff! Plus there is also the aftermath of this chapter, and the impact of Tytan/ Percy's other changes, including an increased navy and the impact that that would have both home and abroad.**

 **Either way there is plenty of stuff to come!**

 **That said, on another note I do have a question. What do people think of my other Percy Jackson/ Game of Thrones story 'The Frozen Throne'. I am pondering on it's fate, and was wondering whether I could get some thoughts and opinions if possible?**

 **Other than that, thanks for reading and all the support! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and congratulation to the many that guessed what ploy I had in mind in regards to Ivar.**

 **Thanks for reading, and please do read some of my other stories if you have the chance!**

 **Catch you all later.**

 **Greed720**


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